


Custody

by Ischa



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Dark Knight Rises (2012)
Genre: Age Difference, Canon Related, F/M, First Time, Gen, M/M, Orphans, Polyamory, Sexual Content, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-28
Updated: 2013-03-09
Packaged: 2017-11-15 05:14:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 58,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/523535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ischa/pseuds/Ischa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which John is adopted by Wayne, grows up in the manor and develops feelings for Bruce. </p><p>  <i>“Yeah. People are assholes.” </i><br/><i>“Can't argue that, but you have to be a better man.”</i><br/><i>“I'm thirteen,” John says a bit petulantly.</i><br/><i>“You are growing up fast. In a few years you will be surrounded by people who are dicks for a lot of reasons. You have to find a way to live with it. Or fight it in a less violent way.”</i><br/><i>“What you're saying is that I shouldn't get caught-”</i><br/><i>“That is not what I am trying to say,” Wayne interrupts, but John really doesn't believe him. He's broken a million rules as Batman and he did it because he knew it couldn't be traced back to him. Suddenly John feels stupid for letting his anger win.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this [prompt](http://tdkr-kink.livejournal.com/2798.html?thread=1420782#t1420782)  
> Au-ish. Still kind of canon-based/compliant.  
> Beta: the lovely mockingj91.  
> Warnings obviously for the whole work not this chapter.  
> There is an ongoing [Chinese translation](http://www.mtslash.com/forum.php?mod=viewthread&tid=73341) of this story now \o/

PART I. (age 12-14)

 **~one~**  
John doesn't have much hope anymore that people; couples; possible parents will choose him. He is labelled the problem child already. He might be cute or whatever, but he’s angry all the time and he can't seem to manage to hide it.  
He's been in three foster-families and to be honest he's had enough of this. They tried, some of them were even really good people, but John – John doesn't want to forget, doesn't want to leave it behind. What John wants is justice, but he knows he won't get that.  
With being twelve he's too old to appeal to people anyway. He had his chances and blew them. Doesn't matter, in six years he'll be out of here and- well John has no idea. He'll cross that bridge when – and all that jazz. 

~+~  
To say John is surprised that someone is going to try it again with him is an understatement of the century. The fact that it's an older guy, well. He looks like money, so John is cautious. People with money aren't, in John's experience, good people. They think they can have whatever, whoever, because they can afford to pay for it. John isn't a thing to be sold. 

“Master John,” the guy says with a look. “Is that all you want to take with you?”  
John only packed the things he couldn't live without. Three pairs of socks and underwear, two shirts, one pair of jeans, the picture of his parents from a better time, a book of French fables and the drawing of Batman Andy made for his tenth birthday. Not that John said anything about his Batman crush to Andy. Andy just knows shit and he doesn't judge you for it. John will miss Andy.  
“Yeah,” John answers. 

The guy makes a complicated face, like he is sad or something. “Well, then we'll have to go shopping for all the other stuff you will need on Monday.” 

To be honest John doesn't think he will still be with this guy on Monday. He keeps that to himself.  
Mister Pennyworth seems like a good guy. 

~+~  
John can't really believe it. He knew Mister Pennyworth was money, but this. He takes a deep breath. 

“Do you live here alone?” he asks. He's never seen a house so freaking big. It took them nearly ten minutes from the gate to the front of it. 

“No, with Master Bruce,” Mister Pennyworth answers. 

“He's like your-?” John looks at him and Pennyworth looks right back, a bit confused. 

“Oh,” he says softly. “No, I work here. For Mister Bruce Wayne. I'm the butler.” 

Hmm, John thinks. The Master John thing wasn't a slip then.  
“Any idea why I'm here?” John asks, shouldering his backpack. 

Mister Pennyworth is silent for a few seconds. “A few,” he says, but he doesn't sound happy or really convinced. 

John's heard about Wayne. Everyone and their grandmother has. He's seen Wayne once too – outside of a magazine that is – and he is pretty sure what he saw no one else could see. People only see what they want to see, or Wayne is just that good at putting on his mask. Maybe John can learn a thing or two during his stay here. No matter how short. 

~+~  
He doesn't see Wayne for the rest of the day. He settles into his new room. Too freaking big and empty of anything that would make it a real, lived in room, but he is too afraid to pin the picture of Batman over the desk. The wallpaper looks really expensive.  
When he's done unpacking – ha! - he goes down to the kitchen and gets lost twice in the process, to find Mister Pennyworth making dinner.  
His stomach rumbles right on cue. 

Mister Pennyworth smiles. “I made sandwiches and tea.”

“Great, thank you,” John answers, sitting down at the ancient looking table. “Is he busy? Does he know I'm here? Is he going to see me?” he asks between bites. 

“Eventually. And yes, he does know you're here Master John.”

John makes a face. “Drop the Master. I’m not-”

Mister Pennyworth hesitates and then smiles. “John then.”

“Yeah,” John answers. 

~+~  
Wayne doesn't come down for dinner, so John doesn't see him. He goes to bed early and tries not to think what he is even doing here. What Wayne would want with a kid like him. Wayne just doesn't seem like the type who adopts poor angry orphans. On the other hand: what the hell does John know?  
He'll find out soon enough. 

 

 **~two~**  
On Monday Mister Pennyworth takes John into the city (the good part, the freaking expensive part where John feels like he doesn't belong) to get some clothes and other necessary stuff, which also seems to include a laptop. Not that John doesn't want one, but he wonders if he has to give it back when they send him to the orphanage, because it doesn't work out. 

“We need to get you measured for the school uniform, too,” Mister Pennyworth says. 

John stops in the middle of the pavement. “What?” 

“School? You are only twelve after all. I can't be home-schooling you and your old school sure doesn't challenge you enough.”  
John wonders how Mister Pennyworth knows that, but then he probably got all of John's school-records.  
What about the other boys? John wants to ask. Who is going to protect Andy from bullies when John isn't there? 

John crosses his arms over his chest. “I don't want to change schools.” He is not going to budge on this one. 

Mister Pennyworth seems to see it too. “Fine. We leave it out today and get you new shoes instead, but you'll have to take this up to Master Wayne.” 

John wonders if he'll have to call Wayne 'Master' too. No way in hell.  
“Okay.” 

“Are you hungry? I am starving,” Mister Pennyworth says and John nods. He is hungry; who knew shopping for t-shirts could be so exhausting? John's never done it before. If he did with his real parents he can't remember and later the foster-parents did the shopping and John was wearing what they wanted him to. Tried to be what they wanted, but it didn't work.  
Mister Pennyworth doesn't try to throw stuff at him. He waits patiently while John looks around and decides. John is who he is with Mister Pennyworth and Mister Pennyworth doesn't seem to mind. John suspects he has years of experience with dealing with angry orphans. Well, one orphan. But even one can be too much on some days. 

~+~  
John isn't afraid. He has no idea what to expect, because this whole thing came out of the blue. One day he's in the orphanage, and the other Mister Pennyworth takes him away, so, really John has no idea why he's here, but he'll make the best of it.  
He enters the library after dinner – with Mister Wayne absent again – and looks around. 

“John,” Mister Wayne says from a dark corner. John can barely make him out in the shadows. 

“Wayne,” John answers, because no way is he going with Master or dad, or what-the-heck-ever. He's on shaky ground here. And Wayne knows it. 

“Take a seat,” Wayne says. It doesn't sound like a question.  
John takes a seat and waits. “I hear you gave Alfred a hard time?” 

John balls his hands to fists. He did not. “And what if?” 

Wayne doesn't say anything for a few, endless, seconds. “He doesn't deserve that. He’s a good person.” 

John knows that. “I did not give him a hard time. I just don't want to change schools.” 

“But your school bores you to death. You are too smart to be there.” 

John huffs. He knows that too. “That is not the point.” 

Wayne leans over and he looks pale and kind of sickly, John thinks. Nothing like the guy he saw that one time at the orphanage. He looks…broken, John thinks.  
“What is the point then? Of you throwing away your future?” 

John wants to snap at Wayne, he doesn't. He keeps his anger under wraps. But just barely. He takes a deep breath. He doesn't want to tell Wayne. He didn't want to tell Mister Pennyworth either. Even if he thinks Mister Pennyworth would understand.  
“I can still do alright if I go to a public school.” 

“You could do better with a private school and I can afford to send you there.” 

“And what do you want in return?” John asks, just because he feels violent and like he needs to be nasty and lash out. 

“Nothing,” Wayne says. 

And that right there? That is bullshit if John's ever heard any. Everyone wants something. “Right,” he answers. 

“If you don't want to tell me, fine. Don't. But if you don't have a better reason than 'I don't want to change schools' you are going to the private school as soon as things can be arranged. And they can be arranged really fast for me.”  
John bites his lip, mulling this over. He doesn't think Wayne is bluffing. “Go to bed, you need to be measured tomorrow for your new uniform,” Wayne dismisses.  
Fuck, John thinks. 

~+~  
John doesn't hate the new uniform, and he doesn't hate going out shopping with Mister Pennyworth again. He likes his new room. He still isn't sure he will be able to stay, but chances are good, if Wayne is already going all authoritative on his ass. The thing is that Wayne's argumentation makes sense to John. Wayne doesn't do this to be mean or to demonstrate he has the power. John really believes he tries to do something good.  
But the road to hell is paved with good intentions. 

~+~  
Mister Pennyworth makes pancakes and John watches, playing with the fork. 

“So, why are you so set on not changing schools?” 

“Will you tell Wayne?” John asks. 

“Probably,” Mister Pennyworth answers.  
John wants to tell someone about Andy. And Wayne and Mister Pennyworth are the only two people living here besides him. He saw a photo of a pretty woman with dark hair, but so far he hasn’t seen her around. 

“When I'm not around, Andy is bullied at school,” John says. 

“Ah, I understand,” Mister Pennyworth answers. His eyes are smiling gently. He puts a pancake on John's plate and takes out three bottles of syrup out of a cupboard.  
John takes the red one and hopes it’s raspberry. He opens it, smells it first before he pours it on his pancake. “Don't you think he will learn to take care of himself?” 

“He’s interested in art,” John answers, because this should tell Mister Pennyworth everything. 

“And why didn't you tell this Master Bruce?”  
John shrugs. He has no idea. He just doesn't want to tell people his secrets. He doesn't want to talk about things that are important to him – or people. Mister Pennyworth is different. John has the feeling Mister Pennyworth just gets things.  
“Do you want to go to the new school?” Mister Pennyworth asks. 

John does. God, does he ever want to go to that fancy private school. He's read the brochure and it sounds like the place to be if you are a twelve year old rich kid and smart. “Yeah,” John says and hates himself a bit for it.  
Mister Pennyworth nods and sits down to eat his own pancakes.  
John wonders what will happen next. 

~+~  
What happens next is that he finds himself in the library again that evening. He suspects this is the place that is reserved for 'serious discussions about life'. 

“John,” Wayne says. 

“Wayne,” John answers. The lamps are on, so he can see Wayne way better than the last time. He still looks too thin and haunted. John sits down in the comfortable chair. “You talked to Mister Pennyworth.” It's not a question.

Wayne's lips do something complicated that could be called a smile one day.  
“I did. So, you want to look out for your friend.” 

“Andy,” John throws in. People tend to dismiss names of kids they don't know. They don't care about, but if you give them a picture, a name, a back-story, it's harder to just dismiss them. 

“Andy,” Wayne answers. “You're afraid he's not strong enough to make it on his own through school.” 

“He is strong, but he doesn't have to be beat up to prove that one day. Bruises don't form character.” John believes that too. You can be a good person without having been abused. 

Wayne leans back in his chair and looks at John, like he's searching for something, or like he just found it. “Fine. I'll pay for his tuition too.” 

“What?” Because John's seen what a year there costs. A fuckload of money. 

“I'll tell Alfred to arrange everything with the schools and the orphanage.” 

“I-” he stops, takes a deep breath. He wants to ask why, but he doesn't. Andy deserves to go to a good school and not be bullied. He deserves it more than him, John thinks. “Thanks,” he gets out. 

“You are welcome, John.” 

~+~  
So, that's how he finds himself attending a freaking fancy school with Andy at his side. He has the stupid urge to grab Andy's hand for reassurance. Andy links their pinkies together in the car on their way to the school and John feels like he can breathe again.  
He is still John Blake. But no one knows anything about him here. He and Andy are just two new boys. 

“Thank you,” Andy whispers. 

John nods. He has no idea what to say. This isn't his doing. Wayne offered and John, well, maybe he'll have to pay for it, maybe he won't.  
“You deserve this,” John says eventually. 

“You do too,” Andy answers, because he is just that freakishly good at reading John. 

 

 **~three~**  
John doesn't want to, but he's settling into a routine at the manor and at school. He spends most of his evenings with Mister Pennyworth, who somewhere along the way became Alfred.  
They're usually in the kitchen, baking, playing cards or talking. Alfred likes to listen to John's stories from school. John suspects that Alfred misses this; having a kid at home. 

“Has Wayne got a girlfriend?” John asks, taking a sip of tea. 

“No,” Alfred answers, he looks sad as he says it. 

“But there is this picture of a pretty woman in the living room.” 

“Rachel,” Wayne says from the door. John didn't even hear him in the hall. Wayne is a fucking ninja. He could be John reasons. Batman had to have learned the moves somewhere. 

“Master Bruce,” Alfred throws in. He gets up and prepares a mug of tea for Wayne like he thinks Wayne will stay with them in the kitchen. 

“Rachel,” John says. “So, why isn't she your girlfriend?” 

“Because she's dead,” Wayne answers.  
Oh, John thinks. Well, that would explain a thing or two.  
Wayne steps into the kitchen and sits down at the table taking the mug from Alfred. Seems Alfred knows Wayne pretty fucking well after all. John wants to ask a million questions, but he doesn't think he has the right. He takes a sip of tea instead. Suddenly the kitchen lost its appeal. And its warmth.  
Wayne is a gloomy guy. He didn't use to be that way. Maybe Wayne just doesn't bother with the mask in his own home. John wouldn't either. 

“How long?” John asks. 

“What?” 

“Master John!” Alfred warns. Alfred still sometimes slips, or maybe he is using 'Master John' to scold. Could be a real possibility, John thinks. He'll have to test that theory someday, soon. 

“How long is she dead?” John clarifies, ignoring Alfred. 

“A few months,” Wayne answers. 

Which is super vague, John thinks. People like to use a 'few months' as an excuse. It could be three to nine. Or longer. “This is the reason why you're wandering the manor like a lost soul?” 

Wayne laughs and it sounds startled out of him. “That bad?” 

“Dude,” John says. The 'duh' is totally implied. 

“Maybe,” Wayne answers, taking a sip of his tea. Alfred looks at John and then at Wayne, there is something tender and warm in his eyes. Alfred gets them, John thinks and still isn't sure it's a good thing.  
John is used to keeping shit to himself. Well, mostly. Andy knows stuff, but not because John tells him.  
John lets it be. It's none of his business. 

~+~  
John does some research on that Rachel woman and what he comes up with isn't pretty. Of course John knows about the Joker, he was the talk last year. The terror was mostly kept at bay at the orphanage, but they weren't completely sheltered. John is pretty sure Wayne is Batman, was Batman (and John never believed the shit they tell about Batman now), so this would be able to break him. She seemed to be the love of his life. She probably knew too.  
John closes the laptop and stares at the picture of Batman Andy drew him. Will he come back, he wonders.  
Does the city still need him with all the new laws in place? John would say, hell yes. There is still a lot of crazy shit happening, John is sure of it. 

~+~  
“So?” Andy asks. They're sitting outside soaking up the sun. 

“So what?” John asks back, not looking at him. He knows what Andy wants to know, but he has no idea how to answer it without lying. 

Andy sighs. “So, how is it being Wayne's son?” 

“I am not his son.”  
Andy punches him in the arm, but it doesn't hurt, because Andy never really learned how to punch someone and he doesn't want to either. It was always John who did the punching around Andy. 

“What are you then?” 

“No idea. His ward?” 

“But why?” Andy asks and John knows exactly what he means. 

“No idea. There are better boys at the orphanage, there’s you.” 

Andy punches him again. “That is not what I mean and you know it. I mean, why does he want to have a kid around? A kid that isn't his. I mean he can have kids, right?” 

“I didn't ask!” 

Andy laughs. “Maybe he thinks his family is cursed.” 

“You have ideas,” John mutters. 

“Maybe he sees something in you other people don't.” 

“You see something in me I’m not even sure is there,” John answers. 

Andy looks around real quick and then presses a kiss to John's temple. “People are stupid,” he says softly.  
John can't argue with that. 

 

 **~four~**  
Wayne is still not really a part of his life. He’s wandering the halls like a ghost or a man who lost his purpose. If John is right and he knows he is, Wayne did. Wayne is confined here. He did it himself, but this is still cellular imprisonment.  
Alfred is the person who cares for John. Alfred is the one who makes meals and reminds him to do his homework and washes his clothes.  
Alfred is the one who sits down for dinner with him, and sometimes Andy too, and listens to John's stories.  
Alfred is the parent Wayne should be. 

~+~  
“So, when he dies, does John get all his money?” Andy asks at dinner. He's staying over again. Wayne has some kind of deal with the orphanage or whatever. John is pretty sure people do whatever Wayne wants them to do. He is just that kind of person. And he has the money to back it up. John's heard that Wayne once bought a hotel so his girlfriends could bath naked in the pool or fountain or something. John doesn't think Wayne is that kind of dick, but still, there must be something to that story.

“No” Alfred answers. He is amused by Andy. John is glad that Alfred and Andy get along so well. In John's opinion everyone ever should love Andy. 

“Do you get all of his money?” Andy asks. 

“Not all of it, but some, I guess. Why, do you want to kill him?”

“Only if John is going to inherit most of Mister Wayne's stuff.” 

“And then?” Alfred asks. 

“And then I will marry John, obviously.” 

John nearly chokes on his chicken. “Gay marriage isn't legal in Gotham.” 

“Gotham sucks that way, but it's on its way to clean up nicely. I still have hope for the gay marriage thing,” Andy answers with a smile. But he does look serious about it too. John gets it. Andy wants for all people to have the same rights. Every orphan wants that, because they don't have it. 

“Don't I have a say in this?” John asks. 

“You don't want me to have a good life?” Andy says slyly. 

“Sure, but I don't think I am marriage material.” 

“Well, not yet, but maybe when you grow a bit,” Andy teases. 

~+~  
John wakes from a nightmare about his dad again and turns around, takes a deep breath and decides that it's okay to get up.  
It's still dark outside, but it's Saturday and Andy is still sleeping, so he's really quiet and stealthy about the whole thing.  
He grabs his hoodie and a pair of socks on his way out of the room and makes his way down to the kitchen.  
It's too early even for Alfred, because Alfred likes to sleep in on Saturdays. Seems Wayne isn't up early much. No wonder, John thinks, what with the hours he used to keep. 

He makes tea and grabs a roll from last night and wanders over to the library. They have an entertainment room, but John doesn't use it often. It's only in use when Andy is sleeping over. John likes to read and Andy thinks he's weird for it, but he doesn't judge. They watch movies on the weekends when Andy's there. He usually has an arm long list of movies he wants to see and video-games he wants to play. It's fun. It's like what having a brother might've been. 

“You're up early,” Wayne says from the chair in the corner. 

“Did you even go to bed?” John asks. 

“Yeah, didn't turn out that great.” 

John smiles. He can't help it. Wayne has a weird kind of humour, but John gets it. Something inside John recognizes the darker parts of Wayne and relates to them.  
“So, now you're stalking the shadows of the manor.” 

“Could be a title for a mystery novel.” 

“A bad one, sure,” John answers. He sits down in the empty chair and puts his mug on the table. He breaks the roll in two – it's cinnamon – and offers Wayne the other half. 

Wayne looks at it for a few seconds before he takes it. “Thanks.” 

“No big deal. You can have a sip of tea to go with it too.” 

Wayne smiles. It's a small smile, but it looks real enough. John waits for Wayne to say something stupidly sappy, but he doesn't.  
John exhales slowly, realising that he wouldn't have want to hear it anyway.  
They eat in silence and read until Alfred comes down and with him Andy, looking sleep-warm and barely awake. 

“I need coffee,” he says, yawning. 

“You get tea,” Alfred answers firmly before he disappears in the kitchen.  
Andy makes a grumpy face and John laughs, getting up to follow them. Wayne doesn't.

~+~  
John notices that Wayne is rarely around when Andy is there to visit. John has no idea if he doesn't want to disturb or if it's something else.  
On the other hand, Wayne is rarely around. Period. Sometimes he's gone for weeks. On business-trips. John wonders what kind of trips they are. Everyone knows that Mister Fox is running Wayne Enterprises for Wayne.  
Maybe Wayne has to keep up appearances. Just because Batman disappeared, doesn't mean Wayne can. People aren't that stupid. Someday someone will put one and one together and it will add up to two. 

~+~  
“Did you get me something?” John asks.  
Wayne gives him a look. He looks tired and worn out. He’s just came back from Shanghai. John would love to go one day. But Wayne never takes him on the business-trips. And the excuse is always the same: because you have school, John.  
Wayne could easily take a trip to London or Berlin or Metropolis during vacations, but he doesn't. 

“Like what?” 

“I don't know? Something cool. Like a sword?”

“Isn't that a Japanese thing?” 

“Are you going to Japan? Soon?” 

Wayne laughs. He does that more often these days.  
John doesn't remember the last time he thought they will send him back. It's been months already. Nearly a year and all the papers are signed. John is still John Blake, but he is also a part of the Wayne household. And that household is more like a family.  
“No, and I don't think I can just get a sword-”

“Ha,” John interrupts. “You could take your own plane. You can get me a sword if you really want to.” 

“Do you want me to?” Wayne asks. 

John thinks about it. He has no clue what he would even do with a freaking sword. He shakes his head. “No.” 

“I got you Chinese candy.” 

“Cool,” John says, because it is cool. John loves candy and especially the exotic kind. “I liked the stuff you got me from Russia.” 

“I’ll try to remember the next time I'm in Russia.” 

~+~  
The first time John gets really into trouble is a few days after his thirteenth birthday. He punches one of his upper classmates in the face. Alfred has to get him from the principal's office. All the while he waits; there are harsh conversations about his attitude and his bad behaviour. John doesn't regret punching stupid Matt in the face. There is still blood on his sleeve.  
On the way home in the car he wonders if they'll kick him out, will they kick out Andy too? It would be a shame.  
Alfred doesn't say a word, but he gives the principal a look and tells him Mister Wayne (all in capitals, John can hear it) will want a word. 

~+~  
John was right all these months ago. The library is the room for 'serious discussions about life'. He sits down and waits for Wayne to start his speech. 

“So?” Wayne asks instead. 

“I did not break this guy's nose,” John answers. 

“But you wanted to, why?” 

“Because he's a dick.” 

“A lot of people are, but you don't see me walking around punching them in the face.” 

John gives him a look, but bites his tongue. Batman sure as hell did. So Wayne has no room to talk. But John can't prove any of it, so he keeps quiet.  
“Is this about Andy?” Wayne asks. 

Isn't it always? People are dicks and Andy is different. John nods. “Yeah. People are assholes.” 

“Can't argue that, but you have to be a better man.” 

“I'm thirteen,” John says a bit petulantly. 

“You are growing up fast. In a few years you will be surrounded by people who are dicks for a lot of reasons. You have to find a way to live with it. Or fight it in a less violent way.” 

“What you're saying is that I shouldn't get caught-”

“That is not what I am trying to say,” Wayne interrupts, but John really doesn't believe him. He's broken a million rules as Batman and he did it because he knew it couldn't be traced back to him. Suddenly John feels stupid for letting his anger win. 

“I'll do better next time.” 

“Good. Wanna tell me why you punched him and didn't break his nose? I have to plead your case tomorrow.” 

“He called Andy a fag-”

“And you?” 

“What does it matter? I don't care what they call me, but Andy takes shit like that to heart.” 

Wayne nods. “There is nothing wrong with liking bo-”

“Oh please, spare me,” John says. “I know where babies come from and I know that you can't choose your sexuality. Besides I don't even think Andy is gay. It just pisses me off when people go around saying stuff and trying to make someone miserable. You have to nip that shit in the bud.”  
Wayne tries hard not to smile. John can see it. He likes when Wayne smiles. 

“Can't say I will use those exact words, but bullying is not tolerated at your school, so I think you won't be expelled.”  
John feels his shoulders loosen. He doesn't want to be kicked out of that school. He likes it there. Mostly. 

“Okay.” 

“Why did Matt Singer even start with this?” 

John shrugs. “He probably saw us kiss,” he says and holds his breath. He doesn't think Wayne is a homophobic douchebag, but it's always easier to be tolerant and shit when it's not your own family. 

Wayne nods. “Everything's going to be fine.” 

“I know,” John answers. He knows Wayne will do his best. And his best is pretty fucking good. 

~+~  
John isn't kicked out, but neither is Matt Singer. They just try to stay clear of each other. 

“Sorry, you got into trouble because of me,” Andy says the next day. 

“Don't be stupid. You're the only person worth getting into trouble,” John dismisses.

“I don't do it because I'm in love with you,” Andy says, quietly. 

John knows that. He puts an arm around Andy and lets him lean his head against his shoulder. “Don't sweat it.” 

Andy laughs. It sounds a bit choked, but John doesn't pry.  
Andy will tell him shit when he's ready to tell John shit. 

 

 **~five~**  
John's fancy school has martial arts classes and also fencing. He needs a permission slip from his parents for the last. He thinks about forging the signature for a second before he dismisses it. Wayne would find out John is sure. 

“So? Fencing?” Andy asks. Andy took art and pottery and creative writing or whatever. 

John shrugs. He thinks he would be good at it. He could use an outlet for his anger too. “Yeah.” 

“You think they will allow you near pointy, deadly objects?” 

“People keep saying it's a pretty safe thing to do. It's an Olympic discipline.” 

“I'm impressed you did your homework and all-” 

“Oh shut the hell up,” John interrupts. 

“Still, you think Wayne will sign that permission form?” 

John nods, but he isn't sure. On the one hand: Wayne sure as hell learned some pretty sweet moves somewhere and can't throw the first stone here, on the other: he is John's guardian. People who care are funny sometimes. Still, John has a list as long as his arm why him taking fencing classes would be a good idea. He's going to state his case and is sure Wayne will see it his way.  
“Wayne will,” John answers after a few seconds. 

“Also, as we are talking about him now anyway. Don't you think you should maybe stop calling him 'Wayne'?” Andy asks. 

John folds and unfolds the permission form for the seventh time and wonders where Alfred is. “What should I call him then?” John wants to know. 

“No idea. By his first name maybe? You know, Bruce. It's been over a year and he hasn't kicked you out. So I guess he won't. And he still pays for my tuition.” Andy grabs the permission form and John turns to look at him. “You could call him 'daddy,' as he’s your sugar-daddy,” he grins. 

John rolls his eyes. “He is more your sugar-daddy. I just live in his house. We don't even see each other that often. When I am there, he barely is. He's always away on business trips.” 

“I know he gets you awesome candy.” 

“He gets us awesome candy.” 

Andy looks at him hard. “You are his ward. He adopted you. Everything he does is for you. To make you happy. Even paying my tuition fees.”

“He likes you.” 

Andy sighs. “I know. That is not what I am trying to say. I just mean that he cares about you. Like he should.” 

John is spared having to answer because Alfred finally shows up. They get into the car and Alfred starts to tell a story about how horrible the traffic was and then asks about school and if Master Andy is going to stay for dinner. Like that's a real question, John thinks. 

~+~  
“So, I want to learn it,” John say putting the permission slip on the small table in the library. 

“You want to take up fencing?” Wayne asks. 

Duh, John thinks. “Yeah. I think it would be good for me.” 

“To learn how to kill people the fastest with a deadly weapon?” 

“It's good for body control too, and for training a lot of your muscles and-”

“Ballet can do that for you without the pointy sharp object aimed at your heart,” Wayne interrupts.

“I don't think,” John says, “I'm the tutu type.” 

Wayne smiles. “What is this about?” 

John sighs. “I think it would help with the anger.” 

Wayne looks at him hard, but doesn't say a thing for a while. John lets him think it over. There was some talk about a shrink a while back, pretty much at the beginning when John thought he wouldn't be staying anyway, but John had dismissed it. He still isn't going to tell a stranger all about how his father had been murdered in front of him. But the anger is still there, still eating at him, steadily. Surfacing only from time to time. John doesn't want to punch people in the face every time he is pissed off. That is not the kind of man he wants to grow up to be.  
“Fine,” Wayne says after a while. 

John looks up at him. “Fine?” 

“Fine. I think it will be good for you. Sports form character and all that.” 

“Isn't that said about team-sport kind of activities?” 

“You want to play soccer now?” Wayne asks.

“No,” John says. He doesn't think he is a good team-player. 

“Competition and failure will teach you about life too,” Wayne answers.  
John nods, if someone knows a thing or two about failure then it's Batman. 

~+~  
The martial arts class is hell on his muscles, but John likes it a bit when it hurts, when he can feel he's done something. It also teaches him a freaking lot about inner-peace and how to fake it. No thirteen year old should know that, probably, but John is glad. When he projects calm, people around him feel less aggressive too.  
He suspects his trainer knows, but maybe he thinks that faking it is a way to inner peace too. Maybe it's even true for people who aren't as messed up as John is.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Really,” Wayne says taking a sip of tea._   
>  _“Yeah. And it's too late anyway to catch you up on seven weeks of life here,” John answers and gets Wayne's full attention in return._   
>  _“Do you want me to be here more often?”_   
>  _John does, but admitting that seems like a weakness. On the other hand: Wayne. “Yeah, that would be nice. Alfred would like that too.”_

PART II. (age 14-16)

 **~one~**  
John gets a sword for his fourteenth birthday. And he and Andy also get a trip to Metropolis. It's not London or Paris or Shanghai, but neither John nor Andy had been anywhere outside Gotham. It's a big adventure. John wants to visit everything and Andy wants to go to every museum. And then there is the Planet. The Daily Planet. Practically the only newspaper worth reading, John thinks. 

“It's overrated,” Wayne says.  
John stops on the pavement and looks at him. Wayne catches up a few seconds later. 

“I think my heart just missed a beat,” John says.

“What?” 

Andy is snickering. “You cannot mean it,” John answers. “Overrated? My ass.” 

“Language, Master John,” Alfred throws in.  
John was so right. 'Master John' is used to scold. 

“It's the only real newspaper in this town,” John says, ignoring Alfred's scolding. 

Wayne sighs. “I hope you don't think about becoming a journalist.” 

“He wanted to be Batman when he was younger,” Andy throws in. That traitor. 

“Really?” Wayne asks, looking at him.  
People are starting to get angry around them, because they’re douchbags blocking the pavement. Wayne doesn't seem to mind or be aware of it. John really has to ask him about that buying a hotel thing one day. If it's true, it would explain so much. 

John shrugs. “I was seven. He was beating up the bad guys.” That should explain everything John thinks.  
Wayne looks like he wants to say something but then someone bumps into Andy and Wayne is in a flash to his side, so he doesn't fall on his ass. 

“Maybe this is not the right place to discuss – anything at all,” Alfred says. He has that disapproving look on his face again. 

Wayne sighs. “Fine. The Planet and then we're going to eat something. I am starving.”  
John does a small victory dance in his head. He is sure Andy and Alfred know. 

~+~  
Fencing is really fucking time-consuming, but John loves it. He loves that his muscles ache less and less the more time he spends training. He loves that his head is clear of anything else other than fencing as soon as he grabs the rapier. He knows the steps; it's like dancing, but cooler.  
John had been right; he’s not the team-player kind of guy.  
He likes to have one opponent, he likes to study them and look for their weaknesses.  
He's good at it too.  
His mind is quick and agile. 

~+~  
Andy waits for him on Wednesdays because his poetry seminar or whatever always ends earlier than John's fencing lessons.  
John's hair is a mess and he can't find his other sock. Andy sits down and opens a book while John is still looking for his sock like a crazy person. Everyone else is gone already and they're going to be late at the gate again. 

“A little help here?” John asks. 

Andy puts his book aside and looks at John. “What are we searching for?” 

“The Loch Ness monster, I just saw it in the showers,” John answers. 

Andy sighs, long-suffering. He perfected that art since he and John became friends all those years ago. “Really? Because I always thought it would be bigger.” 

This could totally be a penis joke, John thinks. “My sock, Andy. I’m only wearing one.” 

Andy looks at John's feet. “Yep, but the other one is in your back-pocket.” 

“What?” 

Andy crosses the space between them and grabs for it, holding it right in John's face. “Back-pocket of your pants.” 

“I don't even know how it got there.” 

“I sure as hell don't either, but I have a theory.” 

John raises an eyebrow. “Yeah?” 

“You put it there,” Andy answers. 

John pulls his sock on and grabs his shoes. “Wow, Sherlock. Call me amazed to the bone.” 

“I'm just that good.”

“You could be Batman,” John answers, deadpan. 

Andy punches him in the arm. He doesn't punch like a small kid anymore, but it still doesn't hurt.  
Much.  
“Hurry up. I bet Alfred is waiting already and today is ice-cream Wednesday.”

“Like every Wednesday,” John says, but he does hurry up. He loves getting ice-cream with Alfred and Andy. And if Wayne is in the city they always get him a new flavour too. 

~+~  
“So, I hear you're getting good at fencing,” Wayne says. John stops in the hall, he was on his way to the kitchen, and turns to lean against the wall, mimicking Wayne who is leaning against the door-frame to his study. 

“You talked to Alfred, I am shocked,” John says. 

Wayne smiles. “I see him around sometimes. It's like he lives here or something.” 

John smiles back. He has no idea how long Wayne is going to stay this time, but he's going to make the best of it. “You didn't say you would come back today. We would've brought you ice-cream.” 

“I forgot that it's ice-cream Wednesday here,” Wayne replies. “Andy still here?” 

“Alfred is driving him home now. You'll have to make your own coffee and sandwich.” 

“Despite the rumours, I am able to do that,” Wayne says. 

“I’ll believe that one when I see it,” John answers, unfolding from the wall. “I was on my way to the kitchen anyway.” 

“Watch and learn kid.”

“Alfred did teach you, didn't he?” 

“I am the master of the sandwich, John,” Wayne replies. 

~+~  
They end up eating sandwiches in the kitchen. John still isn't allowed any kind of coffee, because of some reasons he doesn't get at all, but Alfred insists. Alfred doesn't insist on many rules, so John tries to follow those that Alfred does make. 

“When did he allow you to drink coffee?” John asks, taking a sip of tea. 

“I was sixteen.” 

“You're kidding, right?” 

“Not one bit. Sixteen.” 

“That is – what kind of rule is that?” 

“Alfred's. I bet he has his reasons. He always has good reasons for doing things.” 

“And you don't?” John asks. 

Wayne takes a careful sip of his coffee. He is stalling or thinking it over, John isn't sure. “Sometimes I do things because I want to.” 

Like adopting me? John wants to ask, but he bites his tongue. Wayne sure as hell had his reasons back then. John shouldn't be so keen on figuring them out. This is a good home for him. No one tries to make him someone else. He is John Blake and that is the only thing he has to be here.  
“Everyone sometimes does things because they want to,” John answers. 

“I guess that's true.” 

 

 **~two~**  
Andy gets his girlfriend kinda by accident. John has no real idea how it happened. Especially as they are spending all their time together.  
John isn't surprised Andy has a girlfriend. He is kinda surprised Andy gets to have a significant other before John. Which is stupid as John doesn't want a girlfriend or whatever. 

~+~  
“It's not like in the movies I made you watch,” Andy says, his feet dangling in the water of the pond/pool, what-the-heck-ever, in the garden. It's a hot day for September. The grass is tickling between John's toes.  
Alfred is in the kitchen making something delicious and Wayne is away again. John talked to him via phone just the other day, but it's not the same. At least there will be some awesome candy when Wayne comes back. 

“How is it then?” John asks. He is curious about it. He likes to know things, likes to assess situations before he goes in. 

“Like hanging out with you actually.” 

“With the kissing or without?” 

“With,” Andy answers and after a while: “I told her about you.” 

John needs a second to get to the meaning. “That you're kissing me all the time?” He grins. 

Andy leans his head on John's shoulder. His skin feels warm and his body soft. “Yeah. She doesn't think it's weird.” 

“Because it's not.” 

“It maybe wasn't when we were kids, but now I am not so sure,” Andy says.  
John wonders if someone said something to Andy again. John always wants to break people's noses when he hears shit like that. Maybe that is the reason why Andy doesn't tell him every single thing. Maybe it's for the best too. 

“I don't mind. And if you don't mind, why the hell should we care about other people?”

“Hmm.” 

“And your girlfriend doesn't mind either. You have really no reason to worry,” John answers. “Also: does that mean you don't want to marry me for Wayne's money anymore?” 

“It's like he's my sugar-daddy too, practically,” Andy replies with a smile. 

Wayne is not. But sometimes he feels like a distant relative. “I wish he was home more often,” John says. 

“You told him that, genius?” 

“What? No.” 

“Why not? Maybe he will be home more often if you tell him you miss him. It can't be that hard.” 

“He's not you,” John says and is aware that any other person (except for Alfred maybe) would ask what that even means. Andy doesn't, because he doesn't have to. 

“That's kinda the point,” Andy answers. “Him being him, him being an adult you can trust and who can care – who cares for you.”

“I have Alfred. He is the adult I trust not to screw me over,” John says. It's the truth too. Not that he doesn't trust Wayne, because if you can't trust Batman to do the right thing, who else can you trust? But Alfred is there for him, was there for him. Alfred was the one who got him from the orphanage. 

“Wayne wouldn't screw you over. And look at me, I’m using 'Wayne' now too,” Andy sighs. 

“That's his name,” John replies, but he knows exactly what Andy means. “So, tell me more about what's-her-name.” 

“Lindsey.” 

~+~  
John and Lindsey have shared custody. John is very aware of it; even no one said it out loud. 

“John,” Alfred asks. “Will Master Andy be here on Friday?” 

“I don't know. It's the second Friday of the month. Probably not. He's going to the movies with Lindsey.” Andy says he doesn't have a plan, or timetable, but John can make out a pattern here. 

“Maybe he could bring Miss Lindsey with?” Alfred suggests. 

“Has this house seen a woman in the last fifty years?” John jokes. 

“There was Mrs Wayne, of course, Miss Rachel and a string of women I don't recall the names of.” 

“A string of women, hmm?” John asks. 

Alfred looks at him hard as he puts a cupcake (strawberry) on the table in front of John. “A string of women. Master Wayne was-”

“Busy?” John suggests. 

Alfred smiles. “Busy, before he realised he liked Miss Rachel. They were childhood friends.”

“Cute,” John answers. It is in a way. 

“They were,” Alfred says. 

“You think he will date again?” John wants to know. 

“I don't know John. I wish he would.” 

“Because it would be good for him?” 

“Yes.” 

~+~  
John isn't so sure about the dating. Andy is a true friend, but even Andy has only so much time on his hands and half of it is eaten away by Lindsey. Even when they do stuff together – and John likes Lindsey, she can kick ass at Mario – it's not the same. Andy and Lindsey have inside jokes and all kinds of stories to tell John, because John wasn't there. It's strange. 

And now if Wayne should get a girlfriend he would have even less time to spend with John. And Wayne isn't home half the year. John gets roughly six months with interruptions and with a girlfriend in the calculation he would get three.  
Not really something John looks forward too.  
On the other hand: Alfred thinks it would be good for Wayne to get out and meet people, meet women. Probably to have conversations with someone roughly his age.  
And sex.  
John has no illusions. Wayne is a guy and a rich, good-looking guy on top, there is no way people wouldn't want to sleep with him. Women, he corrects. John isn't going to assume anything, but there is no evidence that Wayne is anything other than straight. John draws his conclusions from what he knows. 

~+~  
“I hear Andy has a girlfriend,” Wayne says. 

“No hello?” John answers. 

“Hello, John. So I hear Andy has a girlfriend.”  
John sighs and pours Wayne a mug of tea. Wayne sits down at the kitchen table. “Did you wait up?” Wayne asks as he takes the mug John proffers.

John didn't. Maybe. Probably, John didn't. “You said you would be home late tonight.” 

“Yes, but that doesn't mean you have to be there to welcome me,” Wayne answers. 

“I know,” John says, he hopes the implied 'I wanted to' comes across, along with the 'Duh'. 

“Wanna tell me all about Andy's girlfriend? Funny you didn't mention her on the phone.” 

“It slipped my mind,” John answers, because it had slipped his mind. When he was on the phone with Wayne, all he wanted to talk about was what Wayne was doing, and Wayne in return wanted to hear all about his adventures. There wasn't really much room for other people – or time. Except Alfred. But John knows Wayne talks to Alfred on a regular basis. 

“Really,” Wayne says taking a sip of tea. 

“Yeah. And it's too late anyway to catch you up on seven weeks of life here,” John answers and gets Wayne's full attention in return. 

“Do you want me to be here more often?” 

John does, but admitting that seems like a weakness. On the other hand: Wayne. “Yeah, that would be nice. Alfred would like that too.” 

“Yeah, Alfred would,” Wayne answers and his fingers twitch on the table like he wants to do – something. But he and Wayne aren't that kind of people. They don't really touch. 

“You could watch me fence,” John says to break the moment. 

“I could fence with you,” Wayne answers with a smile. 

“Or that.” 

 

 **~three~**  
Things are going pretty well, John thinks. Wayne is staying home more often and Alfred is a lot happier. 

“You too,” Andy says. 

“What?” 

“You are happier too since Wayne is staying home. He wasn't on a business-trip for five weeks now. Around that time he always itches to get away again.”

“Yeah,” John says, because he had figured out that pattern too. Years ago. 

“So, are you guys bonding over shit now?” 

“Like what?” John asks. 

“Like fencing and swords, and did you tell him you want that knife for your next birthday?” 

“I did not. Wayne has a thing about weapons.” 

“You can cut carrots with it too,” Andy says. 

John laughs. “Yeah, but I don't think he's gonna go for it.” Even if John thinks it's a pretty good argument. 

“You think you get a car for your sixteenth?” 

“No idea. He could afford it, but I know I get the permission to drink coffee on that sweet day,” John says. 

Andy laughs. “No one would know if you would drink it at my place.” 

“I respect Alfred,” John says. 

Andy nods. “I know.”  
John likes that he doesn't have to explain shit to Andy. 

~+~  
Wayne is really good at fencing and John is not surprised. 

“So, you learned this with the ninjas while you were all 'Seven years in Tibet'?” John asks from the floor where he collapsed a few minutes ago. Needless to say John did not win this round – or the other five.  
Wayne is breathing harder too. At least John got him going. He might not be that good or experienced at it, but he is still young. He is sure he will be able to beat Wayne one sunny day. Or rainy, the weather doesn't really matter. It will be a sweet day nevertheless. 

“I have no idea what you're talking about,” Wayne says taking a sip of water. 

“Yeah, right. I know you've been soul-searching while younger. Fresh out of university?”

“Did Alfred gossip again?” Wayne asks, but he's smiling. 

“Alfred would never. I don't need Alfred to find out shit about you. I have a laptop.” 

“Ah, the internet, it will be my downfall one day,” Wayne answers. 

John takes a sip of his own water – straight from the bottle like a proper fourteen year old. Well, soon to be fifteen. It could be already, but Wayne has a shitload of resources and money to cover his tracks. John wonders if Mister Fox is in on it. Probably.  
“You have a wiki page.” 

“I do?” 

“Yeah and a fanclub.” 

“Really?” 

“It's all crazy women who want to have your babies,” John rolls his eyes. 

“I don't want to have children with crazy women. Besides I already have you.” 

Something warm pools in John's stomach or around his heart or whatever. He takes another sip of water to cover it up.  
“You probably shouldn't Google yourself anyway,” John says after a while. 

“I will keep that in mind. Do people even Google themselves?” 

“People like me? No. People like you? Hell yes,” John answers. 

Wayne looks at him. “What does that mean? Are you implying I'm vain?” 

“Not you, but people who are famous, or rich, or you know, best from both worlds: rich and famous.” 

“At least I'm not famous.” 

“Ha!” John says. “You are pretty fucking high on that 'Bachelor' list.” 

“Why are you even reading that?” Wayne asks and he sounds like he really wants to know.  
John is thinking about lying or changing the subject, but they are building something here and John wants to be a part of it. 

“I wonder if you will date one day and maybe marry.” 

“I don't know. I don't think so. I don't want any other kids, John,” Wayne answers earnestly. He takes a step closer and then stops, looking kind of clueless as what to do.  
Thing is, John thinks, he would really like a hug now, but they aren't that kind of people. He is sure Alfred was the only one allowed to hug Wayne after his parents were killed and for John it only ever had been Andy. This here is brand new territory. 

John takes a deep breath and looks Wayne in the eyes. “We could shake on it like the men and damaged goods we are,” he says getting up from the floor, “or we could try to hug for once?” He doesn't mean for it to sound like a question, but it comes out like one anyway.  
Wayne doesn't say anything, but he takes another step and John meets him halfway without being really aware that he moved at all.  
The hug feels awkward at first. 

“I'm not good at this,” Wayne says. 

“You just need practice,” John answers and buries his head in Wayne's sweaty shirt. 

 

 **~four~**  
Alfred makes him pancakes the next morning with a knowing glint in his eyes. 

“You've seen us,” John says as he's trying to cramp half a pancake at once into his mouth.  
Alfred sighs at the sight of syrup running down John's chin. John grins. 

“Yes. I am glad you and Master Bruce are getting along better now.” 

“You mean, you're glad we're getting our shit together,” John corrects. 

Alfred smiles. “Language, Master John.” 

John nearly rolls his eyes, but takes another bite of his pancakes instead. They are delicious. John needs to ask for the recipe – one day.  
“He didn't hug much as a kid, did he?” 

“There is only so much love that will be accepted by Master Bruce,” Alfred answers. 

John thinks Wayne is a douche for making Alfred feel like this. Alfred raised Bruce and loved him like a son. Still loves him like his own child.  
“He's bad at it. I mean, I am bad at it, but I have Andy, always had Andy, or you know, since they put me into the orphanage. Andy just didn't care for my walls.” 

“Ah,” Alfred says. “And do you care for Master Bruce's?”

“Not sure I should,” John answers. “I think he needs someone to hug him from time to time. I mean why else get a kid? Even one that is so damaged?” 

“You are not damaged,” Alfred says. 

John nods, but he knows it's not true. John doesn't trust people easily. He doesn't care for close relationships either, because he has issues from here to Japan. Wayne is the same. After all John has been living at the Manor for almost three years now, and that last evening was their first hug for god's sake.  
Well, he thinks, at least that shows there is still hope for them both.  
“Not more than Wayne,” John answers eventually. 

Alfred gives him a look that says he would like to object, but he has really no ground here. They both know Wayne has issues and is pretty messed up. John isn't sure Alfred knows that John is aware that Wayne is Batman. Because Wayne is still Batman, no matter that he isn't out there now hunting down the scum. You can't change something like that just because you shelf away the cowl. 

~+~  
Sometimes John wonders where Wayne shelved that cowl. It can't be in the Manor. John knows the Manor by now like he knows the pockets of his pants. He knows the gardens too. Most of them, anyway. The rest isn't too interesting. He read about the Manor. It had burned down and was rebuilt basically from scratch.  
It has a big basement and a wine cellar and beneath that old tunnels. Alfred told him about Wayne’s history on a few occasions and it came up. Too dangerous to go down there, Alfred had said and John had believed him, but now he wonders if Alfred simply wanted to keep him away from the old tunnels for another reason, not only his safety.  
John would love to check that out.  
But not during the cold and damp autumn season. He looks outside: it pours for hours now and he feels like he will crawl out of his skin any second now. 

~+~  
“I'm bored,” John says from the doorway to the library and waits for Wayne to close his book and look at him. 

“I hear the internet is full of wondrous and scary things,” Wayne replies with a small smile.

“It is, but it just won't do on some days.” 

“I guess this is one of those rare days,” Wayne answers; it's only half a question. 

John nods. “Are you busy?” It's not a real question, because when Wayne is busy and doesn't want to be disturbed he works in his study and not the library. On the other hand, it could be a really good book he's been reading before John announced that he's bored. 

“Not really. What do you want to do?” 

“Something to occupy my mind.” 

Wayne thinks for a bit and John waits him out. “Chess?”

“Never played,” John answers stepping into the library. 

“I think you will like it.” 

“Explain the rules then.” 

~+~  
John does like chess. It makes his brain work for its money. Wayne doesn't let him win, which is a good thing in John's book. 

“I learned it from my father, but Alfred is a very good player too,” Wayne says. 

“Have to make him practice with me, so I can beat you next time,” John answers grinning. 

“Or,” Wayne says not looking at John, playing with a white piece instead (of course Wayne has the black pieces), “we could make this a weekly thing?” 

More bonding time with Wayne is a good thing in John's book, too. “I would like that,” he answers. 

~+~  
“Chess, hmm?” Andy says. 

“It keeps my mind occupied,” John answers shrugging. 

“That brain of yours will explode one day. It's constantly thinking.” 

“That's what brains do and besides, you are one to talk.” 

Now Andy's the one shrugging. “Can't help it. Art is a good outlet for all the shit in my head.” 

Sometimes John thinks Andy should talk about it now that they're older. But he isn't going to make Andy talk. Other people have tried and got bitten for it (literally). Andy might be John's best friend because John didn't ever try to make him talk about the time before he came to the orphanage and because he didn't mind Andy hugging and kissing the living hell out of him. He liked it. When he's honest he still likes it that Andy is so affectionate with him. Andy is one of the people John believes in. The other are Alfred and Batman. Batman will always have a special place in John's heart, even if he knows now that Batman is a human being like the rest of them. With flaws and a heart that can be hurt. Had been hurt.  
“One day you will be famous.” 

“Not sure about that, but I guess it would be nice to be able to go to an art-school?” 

“I'm sure Wayne will pay for it.” 

“I'm going to try and get a scholarship,” Andy answers. 

“You don't have to,” John says. 

“I know, but I want to. I want to make it on my own, if that makes sense?” 

John nods. He gets it. “If they should be too stupid to see how genius you are, you can still hit us up.” 

Andy laughs. “Hit you up, really, now John?” 

“Whatever,” John answers. “But I mean it. We will pay for it.”

“I like the sound of that,” Andy remarks. 

“Hmm?” 

“You said 'we',” Andy answers. 

“Oh? Well, three years in that house will do that to a guy, I guess.” 

“Yeah,” Andy says, leaning his head on John's shoulder. 

 

 **~five~**  
When John looks at himself he doesn't see the twelve-year old scrawny kid anymore. He's bigger; his muscles developed nicely with all that fencing, he's still slim, but not thin. He thinks he likes what he sees in the mirror. 

“Fifteen,” John says to his reflection. He doesn't feel any different than yesterday when he was still fourteen. But it's another year, another birthday at the Manor and some kind of testimony that John is going to stay here. That this is John's home; no matter how unusual it may look to other people.  
John knows that some people think: Why him? John could tell them, but he doesn't think they would understand, because they don't understand Wayne. Don't understand John.  
John and Wayne are the same, different, but the same.  
“Fifteen,” he says again and smiles at his reflection. 

~+~  
“One more year and I’m going to have one of these too,” John says sitting down at the kitchen-table, nodding to Wayne's mug of coffee. They never really eat in the dining room. The kitchen is the place to be, John thinks. The kitchen is where the food is and Alfred and now more often than not Wayne too. 

“Fifteen,” Wayne says and doesn't ask if he feels any different. 

“Yeah. One more year and then the delicious first cup of coffee in the morning will be mine.”  
Alfred pours him tea and slides the rolls over. Wayne hands him the butter. “What? No cake?”

Alfred sighs. “You are not twelve anymore.” 

“What kind of argument is that?” John asks. “Wayne is eating cake for breakfast. He sure as hell isn't twelve anymore.” 

Alfred looks at Wayne long-suffering. “Fine, in the fridge. Your favourite.” 

“That horrible German thing?” Wayne asks. 

“Please say yes, please say yes...” John chants under his breath. 

“Black Forest gateau”, “Alfred says. 

“Yes!” John jumps up and rounds the table to get to the fridge. And there it is in all its heavy, delicious glory. “I like the German name for it. It looks pretty written.” 

“You will not eat it alone,” Alfred says. 

“Andy and Lindsey will come over later. Wayne doesn't want any of this,” John answers distracted. He takes the gateau out and puts it on the counter. Alfred made it himself; he can see it in the slight imperfection of the decoration. John loves Alfred he thinks and realises that it really is true. Not everyone would bake him this monster chocolate cake, especially when it would be easier to buy one. He cuts a big piece and puts it on his plate. “You can have my cinnamon-roll, Wayne,” he adds. 

“How very generous of you,” Wayne replies. 

“That's me,” John says, shrugging like he doesn't care either way, but he knows cinnamon is Wayne's favourite.  
Wayne really can't fool him. 

~+~  
“Three years and you still call him Wayne?” Lindsey asks taking another piece of John's cake. Woman can eat a horse without gaining any weight, John thinks meanly. Just a bit meanly. 

“It's his name,” John stresses. 

“I would call him Bruce,” Lindsey answers. 

“You will call him Mister Wayne like everyone else,” John says. 

She sticks her tongue out like a five year old. John rolls his eyes.  
“I told him to call Wayne daddy,” Andy throws in. 

“Urgh, that sounds so wrong. No offence, but he really doesn't look like dad-material.”

“How does he look then?” 

“Like bed-slave material,” Lindsey answers. 

Andy laughs. John has no idea what to even say to that.  
“You are not a member of his fanclub and secretly snapping pics with your phone?” he says eventually. 

“No, I'm not,” Lindsey answers. 

John thinks she looks shifty at best. “I will check your phone and delete all the pictures of the house,” he says. 

She sighs. “I wasn't going to post them.” 

“I don't even want to know what you wanted them for,” John says holding his hand out for the cell phone. 

She hands it over. “Better not to know, trust me.”  
Women, John thinks, are scary, even if they aren't real women yet, but girls. The female species is scary. Period. 

There is only one picture of the house on the phone and it's one of him and Andy curled up on the sofa during a movie.  
“Oh,” John says. 

“Well, yeah...” Lindsey shrugs. She looks uncomfortable, but John can't figure out why. He thinks they look cute together. Comfortable in each other's space.

“You can keep that,” John says, handing the phone back. 

“I won't put pictures of the house or you or Mister Wayne on the internet,” Lindsey says. 

John feels a bit like a dick for even mentioning it, because Andy and her are an item, for months now, and he never saw anything on that website (he still checks it once a month or so, just to see how crazy people are).  
He cuts her another piece of cake as an apology. 

~+~  
John doesn't get that knife he wanted so badly for his birthday, but he gets a new rapier which is cool too. 

“So, do I get a car and a big ass party next year with all my friends?” 

“All two of them?” Wayne asks. 

“It's not about quantity but quality when it comes to friends,” John answers. 

Wayne nods. “Very true and wise for your years.” 

“Ha ha,” John says.

“I mean it John. You are wise and smart and all a parent could want-”

“And I have a shiny big bag of issues on top,” John interrupts. 

“Perfection,” Wayne says, “is a very, very boring thing.” 

“Ah, so you chose me because I wasn't boring and you were bored with your life?” John has no idea why he even said that. What the fuck? He swore to himself he would never ask why Wayne chose him. The thing is that he really wants to know. 

“I wasn't bored with my life,” Wayne answers. 

“Right.” 

Wayne looks at him and his fingers twitch on the table like he wants to reach out and maybe grasp John's hand. They're still awkward as hell around each other, especially when it comes to affection and personal space. Touching seems like a hurdle sometimes too big to master unharmed.  
“You saw me,” Wayne settles on. 

John has no idea what he means, except maybe Wayne means that he knew as he looked at Wayne, that something inside John recognised a part inside Wayne that John could relate to. Maybe Wayne felt the same. 

“You saw me,” John says and the moment feels really heavy. “And you didn't run,” he adds to lighten the mood, but it doesn't work. 

“You didn't either.” 

“I didn't know it was you. When I saw Alfred for the first time I had no idea he worked for you. I didn't know who adopted me. They didn't tell me. I was just taken away, shipped-”

“I'm sorry,” Wayne interrupts and reaches out so his fingertips touch John's. John looks down at their hands and holds his breath for a few seconds for no good reason. Wayne's touch is still new and kind of exciting. John is sure it will fade with time and become familiar. 

“Why was this so very hush-hush?” John asks, still staring at their fingers. 

Wayne takes a deep breath; John can hear it, before he speaks. “I wasn't sure it would work out.”  
John flinches and wants to pull away. It was a possibility, of course. It always is. Wayne was only covering his bases; everyone would do that, before signing the papers that will chain you to another being forever.  
Wayne grabs his hand in a too tight hold. “Not because of you, John. Because of me. Rachel had just died and I was...” he trails off. 

And suddenly John gets it: Wayne had needed a purpose and saw it in John. It was not what John had wanted to hear, but it was the truth and that counted for something.  
“Okay,” John says and then: “I'm glad it did work out.” 

“I am too,” Wayne answers. 

 

 **~six~**  
John has a few people he doesn't call friends he likes to hang out with. Mostly they're from his martial arts classes. They hang out during free periods and after school when Alfred is late or in the car when Alfred drops one or two of the guys off at home.  
Alfred always looks hopeful when John asks if he can go hang out with someone else than Andy after school. John knows Alfred wants a million friends to make John's life a blast, but the thing is that, even if John is good with people, can nearly work with everyone, he doesn't like them that much. He is totally comfortable and content with Andy and Lindsey and at home Alfred and Wayne. He doesn't need anyone else. 

~+~  
“Is that weird?” John asks Andy.

It's too cold to be outside, but they're doing it anyway. Andy huddles into the blanket and looks out onto the gardens. “No, some people are just that way, but don't you want to be with someone?” 

“Like you are with Lindsey?” 

“Yeah, like that. I mean, don't you like anyone at school? Or at least find them attractive?”

John takes a sip of hot tea and thinks about it. He doesn't think so. He can say he finds a few people attractive at school, a girl from his fencing class looks really great and two guys from his martial arts classes too, but does he want to have sex with them? He seriously doesn't think so. 

“No, not really.” 

“So, what do you think about, who do you think about, when you jerk off?” Andy asks. He sounds genuine curious. 

If it were anyone else John would tell them to fuck the hell off, but it's Andy. “No one in particular.”

“Strangers?” 

“No, it's more like faceless people doing stuff to each other.” 

“Not you?” Andy asks, he turns a bit to look at John. 

“No, sometimes I'm at the fringes watching, but mostly I'm not even there.”

“So, you like invent your own personal porn with faceless people?” Andy asks. 

John nods. “Yeah, I guess that is pretty accurate,” he answers and looks at Andy, who is frowning. “You think it's weird.” 

“No, I don't think anything is weird at all as long as it gets you off and doesn't hurt anyone. But me and Lindsey we think about people. Specific people.” 

“Each other?” 

“Well, yes, obviously, but sometimes other people too.” 

“Never thought about real people,” John says. 

“Well, everyone is different.” 

~+~  
It's true that everyone is different, but John wonders if he's messed up somehow. He stalked some sex-blogs and websites with message-boards. Most people fantasize about people they know or celebrities or even random strangers they saw on the bus.  
It doesn't work for John. He just can't imagine himself with someone he saw on a bus or in a café or in a magazine. That's why John doesn't have a single Playboy under his bed.  
When he lies down and tries to think about someone he knows the only people that come to mind are Andy and Lindsey and that seems just wrong. 

~+~  
“Okay,” Andy says on their way to the school-gates. Alfred is going to be late and they're going to hang out at the book store and wait for him. 

“What?” 

“You are being weird.”

“Thanks.” 

“I don't mean it that way. Just you want to talk about it, but don't know how?”

“I don't know if I should,” John answers. He puts his hands in the pockets of his jacket and walks straight ahead. It's ten minutes to the book store. He could get it off his chest by the time they reach it. And if Andy should be mad he could take the bus back to the orphanage as the bus station is close by. 

“Ah, okay. Try then. I promise-”

“Don't promise anything,” John interrupts. 

“You're freaking me out,” Andy says. 

John takes a deep breath. “So remember our conversation about jerking off the other day?” 

“Yeah?” 

“I tried to think of someone from a magazine or school, but it just didn't work. I can't imagine myself with strangers, but it worked with you and Lindsey,” John says. 

And nods. “Kinda makes sense.” 

“What?” 

“I mean, you have so many issues with trust and being left behind and of course you wouldn't get off on someone you can't trust not to screw you over. And me and Lindsey we wouldn't.” Andy reaches out and tugs on John's hand so he can link their gloved fingers and squeezes his hand. “It's fine. I'm not mad. I am sure Lindsey wouldn't be mad either. She thinks you cleaned up nicely.” 

“Gee, thanks.” 

Andy smiles. “It's fine. You can think about us doing wicked things to you all you want.”  
John buries his face in his scarf. What the fuck? But he's smiling. 

~+~  
The surprising thing for John is that he does think about them from time to time. He doesn't set out to do it when he lies in bed, but somehow it happens anyway.  
He catches himself sometimes watching Lindsey dance or leaning over and kissing Andy's cheek and wonders. He probably shouldn't, but it's still there.  
John would like to know how it would be with a person he likes and trusts, but is very aware that that kind of commitment won't be found in a 15 year old. No way in hell. 

~+~  
“So, you're gonna stay unkissed for god only knows how many years to come?” Lindsey asks. John wonders when exactly they got to the point where he is okay with discussing his sex-life, or lack thereof with her. 

“Show me that unique snowflake person who is willing to date me for at least six months without screwing it up, so we can kiss or whatever and I will go out with them.” 

“Them, hmmm?” 

“I'm not interested in genders,” John says, because it's true. He is interested in people, or not. John is pretty messed up. 

“But you like Andy?” 

“Well, duh,” John says. 

“And me?” Lindsey continues. 

“Yeah, you're a good person.” 

“I try,” she answers, looking at him hard. “I do think you cleaned up nicely. All that fencing and stuff, maybe,” she cocks her head. 

John is not thinking about what she might be implying here. “Thanks.” 

“I would make out with you,” Lindsey declares. 

“Thanks?” 

“It's not-” she sighs. “I discussed that with Andy, you know? You are our friend and we love you and we don't want you to be unkissed when you’re 27 or whatever.” 

“You want to make out with me out of pity?” John asks. He is not exactly appealed. Maybe a bit. 

“Can't speak for Andy, but I would make out with you because I think you're hot and because my boyfriend doesn't mind if it's you.” 

“Aren't you guys a bit too young to be already bored with your sex-life?” John says. 

She slaps him. “Stop joking. It's cool if you don't want to, but if we should ever be with someone else, it would be you,” she answers. “Because we love you John.” 

Yeah, John thinks, he loves them too, but it's not really the kind of love where you want to be with the person every single day and night and miss them to the point of depression when they're not there and where every touch seems like something special. A freaking miracle. 

~+~  
“So, John,” Wayne says, playing with a pawn. He isn't meeting John's eyes, that's how John knows this won't be a nice, calm game. This will be a TALK. 

“Yeah?” 

“Andy and Lindsey been together for more than half a year already,” Wayne says. 

“Yeah,” John answers. 

“Do you have someone you like?” 

John looks at him then. “Is this your awkward way to have The Talk?” 

“I never had the talk before with anyone, except Alfred and – just no. I'm not going there. So, yeah?” 

“I don't need The Talk,” John answers. “I know where babies come from.” 

“It's not only about that. I know that it's covered in health-class and probably on a million blogs, but I want you to know that it's okay to be with someone you like, or even someone you only find attractive. I won't judge either way.” 

“Because you were busy with a string of women back when you were young?” 

Wayne keeps silent for a few seconds. “You and Alfred are way too close.”

John shrugs. “We aren't judging either. But I'm not that kind of person.” 

“What does that mean?” Wayne wants to know. He puts the pawn on the table and looks directly into John's eyes. John takes a moment to think over what he wants to say. What he wants to reveal. 

“I am not interested in strangers.” 

“All people are strangers at first. Alfred and I were strangers at first, and Andy and Lindsey.” 

“Yes, but they aren't anymore and -” he sighs, frustrated, because it's just so hard to explain this. This is how he feels. Can't that be enough? “Why can't it be enough that I don't want to be with someone now?” 

“I am not pressuring you in going out, John! I am just curious about your life.” 

“I don't date anyone. I don't want to date anyone and I am not sleeping around with strangers and even if I would, I would always use protection. Can we drop that now?” Suddenly John feels angry for no good reason with Wayne. He doesn't want to think about it all anymore. He doesn't want for Wayne to think John is a freak, but that ship has sailed already. 

“Yes,” Wayne says.

~+~  
John is thinking about it the whole evening. He just can't explain to himself why he was so angry all of a sudden with Wayne. Wayne only wants to be a part of John's life. John wants that too. He likes to talk to Wayne, likes to fence and have lazy breakfast discussions on Saturdays. All that awesome stuff that they're doing: John likes it.  
He wanted Wayne to be home more often and Wayne is and they are on their way to be a family, or whatever.  
It's only natural that Wayne would want to know if John is seeing someone. Every parent that cares for their child would.  
Maybe it's because John doesn't have anyone, doesn't want anyone. Maybe it's strange, but that is how John is and Wayne should know that by now. Wayne should understand and respect that.  
John sighs, looking at the ceiling. No answers there, not surprising. 

~+~  
Wayne is still awake when John knocks on his bedroom door. He hasn't been in there ever before, but the whole thing, the whole conversation wouldn't let him sleep. 

“Come in,” Wayne says. John is sure he knows it isn't Alfred.  
John takes a deep breath and opens the door. Wayne isn't even in bed; he's sitting on the sofa, a book close by. 

John closes the door and stands there awkwardly. He has no idea what to do. “Sorry for-” he waves his hand and Wayne nods. Smiling a little. 

“No, really. I was still awake. I'm a night-person.” 

No shit, John thinks. “I figured.” 

“So? Want to sit down?” Wayne asks. 

John looks around. There is a chair by the dresser and then there is the empty space on the big ass couch. John still wants to take the chair, which is stupid.  
“Yeah, thanks,” he says crossing the room to sit down at the very end of the couch. He tugs his feet under him and doesn't quite look at Wayne's face.  
Wayne waits him out. “I have issues,” John says. 

“Everyone has issues.” 

“Yeah, I know, but I mean with people. I have issues with trusting people. I don't like to feel exposed,” John says and he feels exposed as hell right now. 

“You don't have to explain to me-”

“Yes, I do. You want me to. I know you care and want to be part of my life, but this is my life. You and Alfred and Andy and Lindsey. This is my life. There is no one else. I am not sure there ever will be anyone else,” John cuts him off. He needs to get it out all in one.  
Wayne is silent for a long moment and John balls his hands to fists, waiting. If Wayne was hoping for grandchildren or what-the-heck-ever, well, he'll be disappointed as hell. 

“What about Andy?” Wayne asks eventually. 

“What?” John turns his head sharply to look at Wayne. 

“Andy, do you like him? You are with him all the time and you like boys?” It's a very tentative question. 

“I like people. Certain people only,” John says. He still has no idea how to talk about this with Wayne, who is his parent on paper, but is in no way like a parent should be. Alfred is the parent in this house. John has no idea what the hell Wayne is in this constellation. Maybe something like an older brother? 

Wayne nods. “Andy?” 

“For god's sake! What does it matter?” John explodes. He gets up and paces the bedroom. 

“It doesn't. I just thought maybe you want to talk about it now, because you're here in the middle of the night.” 

Which is a very reasonable assumption. John sighs. “I am not in love with Andy.” 

“Oh, okay. You two seemed so close,” Wayne answers. 

“We are and I love him and I really like Lindsey, but this is not-” he stops and then settles on, “it. Me and Andy aren't you and Rachel.”  
Wayne seems to flinch and John feels a bit like a dick for bringing her up. 

“I know.” 

“I didn't mean it in a bad way,” John says. He slings his arms over his chest and stares at the wall. “This was a bad idea.” 

“No,” Wayne says, getting up and stepping slowly closer. “I'm glad you feel comfortable enough to try and let me be a part of your inner-life.” He stops in front of John and John looks slowly up and into Wayne's face. He looks tired and like he has no idea what the hell he's doing. Well, John thinks that makes two of them. John uncurls and Wayne takes it as the permission it is to pull him into a hug.  
Wayne's arms around him are still exciting, feel still new. He pushes a bit closer and buries his nose in Wayne's shirt, inhaling his scent. This, he thinks, is where he wants to be. 

 

 **~seven~**  
John doesn't think much about sex in general. And he sure as hell tries not to think about Andy or Lindsey, or Andy and Lindsey in that context, but now that she offered, that they offered, well. Truth is John has never been kissed before and he's going to be sixteen in five months. 

~+~  
After martial arts class is over the guys (more often than not) are joking around about sex and making out and their girlfriends. John keeps silent, because what the hell would he even say? 

“So, John?” Timothy asks. John likes Timothy. As much as he likes anyone who isn't Andy, Alfred or Wayne, or Lindsey. 

“Hmm?” he answers distracted.

“What about you? Girlfriend?”

“Nah,” Eggert throws in. John knows Eggert only listens when you call him by his last name, but then when his parents would've called him Mogli, he would go by his last name only too. “He's with that art-dude. That one with the ace comics.” 

“Andy?” John asks. 

“If that's the one, yeah. I can't remember his name. Small, on the pudgy side with reddish-blond hair?” 

“Andy,” John states. “He has a girlfriend.” 

“What?” 

“Lindsey. That girl that hangs out with us? That's her.” 

“The scary one?” Timothy asks. 

John thinks about it and then smiles. “Yeah, that would be her. She writes the story-lines for Andy's comics.” 

“Dude,” Eggert says. He sounds awed.  
John knew people would see the genius that is Andy. One day. That day seems to be today. At least for Eggert.  
“Well, yeah,” John says shrugging. 

“So, you don't have anyone?” Timothy asks. 

“No.” 

“Would you want to,” Timothy bites his lip and then mumbles something. 

“I didn't catch that.” 

“He's asking you out,” Eggert says. 

“What?” Because no one has ever asked John out. Not even tried. 

“It's cool if you don't, you know, like guys or whatever...” Timothy trails off. 

“I do like guys,” John says, because he does and he's big on honesty, when he can afford it. And in this case he can. 

“Oh, okay?” 

“I just don't-” John has no idea what to say. He looks at Timothy and then nods. “Okay.”

~+~  
“Dude!” Andy says. 

“I know.” 

“Dude.” 

“I know,” John says again. “He is not my boyfriend,” he adds just to be clear on that one. 

“I know,” Andy answers. “But look at you. All grown up and going out on a date.” 

“I'm going to stab you if you tell anyone,” John warns. 

“You won't because you love me.” 

Too true, John thinks. “Still, I don't want to get anyone's hopes up or whatever.” Truth is for some reason he doesn't want to tell Wayne. 

“It'll be fine. At least you’ve known him for some time now.”

John doesn't think it can be called knowing someone if you only see a person once a week, and your interaction consists of 'hello', and something about a school report, during the five minutes you change your clothes in a room full of other guys. But John always knew he had other standards for these things. On the other hand Andy isn't totally in the wrong; Timothy is not a complete stranger.  
“Don't tell anyone,” John says again. 

“I promise.” 

“Not even Lindsey and tell her to stop proposing a threesome,” John says. 

“She doesn't. We aren't-” Andy waves his hand in a vague gesture. “Only like handjobs.”  
Urgh, John thinks. He so didn't need that mental image. 

~+~  
John doesn't tell anyone, and no one except Andy knows, but he still feels like he somehow fails Alfred and Wayne by telling Timothy that it just doesn't work only after a few weeks. John feels too pressured into the whole thing, even he knows that they are taking it real slow and John gets that Timothy wants to hold hands or kiss goodbye or hello or whatever. John, well, John just isn't there yet and he doesn't think he will be any time soon.  
It took him and Wayne nearly three years for an awkward as hell hug. But the hugs are getting so much better with practice and they still feel brand new, like that first time. It makes John feel warm and safe and loved. 

~+~  
“You are not a hopeless case,” Andy says. 

John feels like he is on some days, but on most he doesn't care. He has the people he loves in his life and everything he could want is provided. He just has to ask. He doesn't ask often for things. The good thing about Wayne is that he just somehow knows when John really wants something.  
“I know. I don't care. I mean, me and Timothy are friends, and well, he'll get over the crush. It's not like we were dating long.” 

“Seven weeks and not even a kiss,” Andy says. 

“It didn't feel right.” 

Andy nods like he gets it, but John knows Andy is worried for John too. Knows Andy wants all the things he has for John. “I just want you to be happy.” 

“I am happy. I know it's a different kind, a different definition, but I am happy. Here with Alfred and you and Lindsey,” he says. “And Wayne.” 

“Never really thought this could work out in the beginning, you know?” Andy says. 

“Yeah, I think no one really did, but I had a feeling it could.” 

Andy raises an eyebrow. “Really?” 

“Yeah. Something about Wayne, you remember the first time he came to the orphanage?”

“Yeah.” 

“I felt like I knew him back then,” he shrugs. It's hard to explain. 

“I can't say I get what you mean, but I am glad it worked out. Not only for you, for me too. Alfred is the best person ever. Imagine never even knowing him.”  
John shakes his head. He can't imagine it anymore. Alfred is too much a part of his life. 

~+~  
“What do you want for your sixteenth birthday?” Wayne asks casually. John's birthday is still three months away, but no one knows if Wayne will be there then. He might be on a business trip. So. 

“I don't know. I don't need anything.” Which is the truth. 

“It's not about needing something, it's about wanting something.” 

What John wants he can't have. He wants to spend his birthday with Wayne doing awesome things the whole day long.  
“A car would be practical,” John allows. 

“A car?” 

“Yeah. Something not flashy.” 

“You mean you want, what, a Ford?” 

“Yeah? Something small and normal.” 

“Cheap, you mean.” 

“If you like that word better,” John answers. He doesn't need expensive gifts. He doesn't even need a Ford. He has Alfred. He's sure he won't even be using the car that often anyway. 

“I can afford something -”

“It was never about the money. I didn't stay because you’re rich, or because you were never there in the first place. I like it here. This is my home. You should know that by now, Wayne.”  
Wayne nods, there is a smile playing around his lips. John likes seeing Wayne smile. John likes seeing Wayne happy.  
John likes making Wayne happy, he realises. “I make you happy,” he says and even to his own ears it sounds surprised. 

“Yes, you do,” Wayne answers and grabs his hand on the table to squeeze it. He does that more often now. Random acts of affection. John likes them all. The hair ruffling, the hugging, the hand grabbing. Something that could be called 'cuddling' on the sofa. It all tells John he is welcome here, he is loved.  
And he wants to make sure now that Wayne knows the feeling is mutual. He should know, John thinks, but then Wayne is as messed up as John is and sometimes he needs to hear the words. 

~+~  
John knows that Wayne doesn't visit his parent's graves on the anniversary of their death. He visits the ruin of the theatre instead. He's seen it happen three times already. Well, more like he's seen Wayne leave on that day and asked Alfred. 

“So, can I come with, or do you want to be alone?” John asks at breakfast. This year the obit falls on a Saturday. 

“Come with where?” 

“To that theatre. The ruin. Where your parents were killed,” John answers. 

“Why would you want to come?” 

“Because they were your parents and you're hurting and you don't need to do this alone. But you can.” 

Wayne looks at him like he can't believe John is real. It makes John uncomfortable and proud. “Thank you John.” 

“Any time,” John answers.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Wayne's thumb is messaging circles into John's skin, absent-minded. Or deliberately. John really can't tell right now. The air is thick with anticipation. John knows that Wayne wants him too, right now at least. And that's all that matters anyway._

PART III. (age 16-17)

 **~one~**  
Wayne comes back from England all different. John can't put it in words at first. He is not happier exactly, but something has changed. And John feels like he's losing him. It's stupid.  
And then it's not stupid anymore, but a real possibility. 

~+~  
“So, what's her name?” Andy asks. 

“Bambi,” John answers with an eye roll. “I don't think that's her real name” 

“Sounds like a gold-digger.” 

“Oh please, I bet they all are,” John says. He's never seen a woman at the manor (because clearly Lindsey doesn't count), but lately Wayne has been going out (to be seen in public; like Alfred calls it) more often. And the kicker is he's going out with only one girl now.  
Bambi. 

“Maybe it's good for him to have someone. I mean, his last girlfriend was killed by the Joker.” 

“She wasn't his girlfriend at the time. She was the girlfriend of Dent.” 

“The guy who was killed by Batman?” 

“Batman didn't kill anyone,” John says, a bit too sharply for his liking. 

Andy lets it slide. After all Andy knows all about John's feelings for Batman. “You invested a few more hours to do research on Wayne's girlfriends, hmm?” 

“I did research on Wayne. She was part of the research.” 

“You just don't want to share,” Andy says. 

“I share with you,” John points out, because it's true. John has no trouble to share Wayne. Wayne is still halfway across the world six months out of twelve. The time they have is, well, precious. 

“With a woman, I mean,” Andy answers. 

“What? What does her gender have to do with anything?” 

“For nearly four years now, it was only you, Wayne and Alfred. No woman.”

“Hmm,” John says. Maybe Andy is on to something here. A woman would mess with their household. They’re just so different. “Maybe I'm concerned because she is not bad-ass enough to be with Wayne.”  
Andy laughs. 

~+~  
John tries to see it from Wayne's perspective and from Alfred's. Because Alfred is clearly happy that Wayne is seeing someone at all. Even if John has the feeling Alfred compares Bambi to Rachel all the time, and Bambi just doesn't measure up. What John knows about Rachel, no woman, no one could measure up. Maybe that is why Wayne is with Bambi. She is just so different from Rachel; there is really no way to compare them.  
John tries to be happy for Wayne. He knows, even if Wayne and he are similar in many ways, Wayne is not the kind who should be alone. Wayne has always had someone, a woman by his side, or was busy finding himself (and who can say it wasn't with women?). Except for the last four years. But then he had John to take care of.  
Now John is nearly sixteen, not a grown up yet, but no child either. He can take care of himself. He has his own life that doesn't always include Wayne.  
It's maybe time that Wayne has someone to talk to, to have sex with. Someone roughly his age. 

~+~  
John doesn't like Bambi, and he has the suspicion, the feeling is returned in kind. Bambi sure as hell didn't know that Wayne has a- John stumbles over the word even in his head – a ward, he settles on. An heir to his fortune. He knows he gets half of Wayne's stuff, Alfred gets the other half and then there is money set aside for orphanages and shelters. John's seen the will last year. And again last month. Juts to make sure. You never know with men who think they are in love, but it seems Wayne is still rational about it all.  
John didn't think Batman would turn into a love-sick fool, but well, better safe than sorry.

~+~  
John is sitting through the second awkward as fuck dinner in a fancy restaurant with Wayne and Bambi, and has no idea what to talk about with her. He thinks she doesn't even look like a Bambi, but that would not go over well. And when Wayne told him and Alfred about her, John has thought she would be younger. She is probably on the good side of thirty. Wayne could do better, John thinks. It sounds mean in his head. John doesn't even know what better would be.  
Alfred obviously thinks it would be someone like Rachel.  
John would be content with someone who wasn't so boring.  
Wayne is talking about him and John tunes in again. Nothing else to do, really. 

“Fencing?” Bambi asks. “Isn't that awfully dangerous?” 

She is sooooooo dull, John thinks. “No, not when you know what you're doing and Wayne knows what he's doing,” John answers.  
She makes a face, probably because John calls Wayne 'Wayne', or because he dared to say anything at all. He would love to make one right back at her. But he was raised better than this. Alfred would be proud. 

~+~  
“She is so dull. I nearly fell asleep,” John says, sitting down at the kitchen table. Wayne is with Bambi. He said he would drive her home. John took a taxi. 

“She seems a bit superficial,” Alfred answers. 

John snorts. “Yeah, you can put it like that. She's vain too. She only had a salad and fish that looked like it tasted like cardboard.”

“No dessert?” 

“No, but she was eyeing my cheese-cake.” 

“Miss Rachel always liked sweets,” Alfred says. 

“I bet she was bad-ass.” 

Alfred puts a mug of tea in front of John and then the tin with the good ginger-cookies. “She was.” 

“I wished I could have known her. She sounds kinda like someone I could respect.” 

“Maybe if you give Miss Bambi,” Alfred stumbles a bit over her name. John thinks it's because he put a Miss in front of it. “If you give her a chance maybe she will surprise you.” 

“Hmm,” John says, but he really doesn't think so. 

~+~  
John's way to deal with the whole thing is to avoid Bambi as often as he can and still be polite.  
Wayne catches on, of course. 

“We just don't have anything in common is all,” John says. He's playing with a black knight. 

“You are rarely home lately,” Wayne looks at him. “You're avoiding being here when she is.” 

“What do you want me to say?” John asks, putting the knight on the table. 

“I don't know. I just thought you would be happy-”

“I'm trying to be happy for you.” 

“That is not the same.” 

“No, it's not. Did you want me to lie?” John asks. He doesn't think so, but he is at a loss here. He has no idea what Wayne wants from him. He is trying to do what he can. He manages just fine. He is not in the way and he is not hostile. 

“Of course not. I guess I was hoping, you two would get along better.” 

“Well, it didn't turn out that way. We have to deal and this is my way of dealing.” 

Wayne sighs. “Fine.”  
If she is going to leave me alone, John thinks, I am going to leave her alone too. 

 

 **~two~**  
“Bruce!” Bambi says, and John thinks any moment now she will stomp her foot like a child. He is honestly waiting for it to happen. “We have tickets.” 

“John is fencing that day,” Wayne answers. 

“I'm sure you've seen him fence a lot.”

“He doesn't have a driver's license and-”

“The butler can take him,” Bambi cuts in. 

John's hands grip the small table in the hall so hard he is afraid he'll break something. The knuckles are white already. “Alfred,” he presses out and they turn to look at him. “His name is Alfred. And not the Butler,” John continues. She takes a step back before she catches herself doing it. John is pissed off and it probably shows on his face. Scratch that, it sure as hell shows on his face. She is silent for a minute, as is Wayne. 

“Alfred,” she says, trying to stay calm. John can see the rage battling inside her. It makes something ugly inside him happy. He doesn't dwell on it. “Alfred can take him. We only have tickets for tomorrow, and it was hard enough to get those.” 

“Bambi,” Wayne's voice sounds like he's feed up with this. 

“Bruce,” she gives back, clutching her purse. They were on their way out to have dinner when the subject came up. John didn't think much of it, only informed Wayne that they would need to go half an hour earlier to get Eggert, because his brother couldn't drive him. And from there everything kind of exploded. And now John is ready to strangle that woman, because she makes Wayne choose between her and John.  
John would never do that. It's stupid. 

“Alfred can drive me,” John says calmly and makes himself let go of the table. Wayne looks at him, unblinking. “You've seen me fence a million times. Hell, you've seen me fence just yesterday as you wiped the floor with my ass,” John grins. It's a good memory, like all of him and Wayne doing shit together. 

“See?” Bambi says pleased. “He's a big boy, he can go alone.” 

“Are you sure?” Wayne asks. 

John shrugs. “Yeah. 

~+~  
“I hate her,” John says over the phone. He's staring at the ceiling of his room again. 

“You don't hate her,” Andy answers reasonably. 

“Maybe not hate, but I really despise her. She makes me want to smash things to pieces.” 

“Want me and Lindsey to come over?” Andy asks. 

John thinks about it, but he doesn't think he will be good company. “Nah, it's fine. I'll see you two at school. I just needed a few minutes to rant.” 

“Rant away then. What else are friends for?” 

“Helping you move?” John asks. 

Andy laughs. “I can't lift heavy shit and you know it.” 

“I’ll let you carry my lamps or something.” 

“I'm sure Wayne can afford to pay someone big and strong to get your stuff from A to B.” 

“Yeah, he can.”

“And he can lift heavy shit too,” Andy says, gently. 

“Yeah, he can,” John whispers. 

~+~  
It's stupid to miss Wayne when he's with Bambi, but he does, and he does envy her the time Wayne spends with her, even if Wayne tries not to cut the time they spend together. 

“I'm sorry you didn't win,” Wayne says. 

“At least you weren't there to see me lose,” John answers, looking up from the book he was reading and at Wayne standing in the doorway to the library. 

Wayne smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. “Yeah.” 

“How was the museum, exhibition, whatever?” Just a few months ago Wayne would've taken him and Andy to see it. John tries not to be bitter. 

“Not my taste, but I think Andy would've liked it.” 

“Next time then, you should take us,” John says. 

“I really should.” Wayne unfolds from the door frame and comes over. He looks like a predator when he does that, John thinks and suppresses a shiver. It's not fear (John knows fear), it's something else, but he can't place it. He presses into the chair and Wayne stops. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah? Why wouldn't I be?” John answers. He makes himself relax. Wayne is still looking at him like there is something wrong with him. There is nothing wrong with him. 

“Are you mad at me?” 

“No,” John answers, because he isn't. He is mad at her. 

Wayne nods. “Want to play chess?” 

John shakes his head. “Wanna play Mario?” 

Wayne smiles. “Yes.” 

 

 **~three~**  
Lately when Wayne touches John, it makes John shiver inside like it used to do when they started being physically affectionate, but it's different too. Just subtly, but still. And John can't figure out what the hell changed.  
Wayne is still his charming, messed up self – with a girlfriend that hates John and that John dislikes like no one else, but still: Wayne is the same.  
The only conclusion is that John has changed. 

~+~  
John ducks when Wayne wants to ruffle his hair and feels sheepish he's done it. Wayne looks surprised but doesn't comment.  
John thinks it's just a glitch or something. It'll be fine.  
It isn't. He does it again and again, and when they're watching movies, he keeps his distance. 

Wayne looks at him hard. “Are you alright?” 

“Yes, I'm fine.” 

“But you seem,” Wayne stops like he is weighting his words, “distant.” 

“I guess I'm growing up after all,” John says. He's read up on this. It seems to be natural to not be as affectionate when you are a teenager as when you were a kid. The thing is; he and Wayne are different. Nothing ever is as simple as that with them. He and Wayne started being physically affectionate with each other really late. So...John is at a loss. He just knows that he can't be touched by Wayne right now. Not until he figures it out. 

“You are,” Wayne says. 

~+~  
“It's just so weird, you know? Because I have no problem with you and Lindsey being in my personal space, but Wayne-” John shrugs. 

“Maybe your brain is punishing him for being with her,” Lindsey says. Lindsey, like John, doesn't like Bambi one bit. John doesn't know exactly why, but he doesn't really care either. He is glad she sees the whole Bambi business his way. 

“That would be awfully childish,” John says. 

“Well, duh. No one is immune to these kinds of things and you do want to make him see the error of his ways, right?” she asks. 

John nods, he kinda does. Life was so much better before Bambi came along and carved out a space for herself in it with pick and spade and blunt force. “She doesn't fit in right.” 

“She doesn't,” Lindsey confirms.  
She is just so different from all the people John likes. It seems the only thing she wants out of life is having a good time and Wayne. 

“I don't get why he likes her so much. Why he puts up with her.” 

“Love makes people do the most stupid things,” Lindsey says. 

Love? John thinks. It can't be love, can it? He looks horrified at her. He just knows he looks scary as fuck right now. “You think he's in _love_ with her?” 

“I-,” she says, “I don't know. It's a figure of speech.” 

“But what if he is in love with her? What if she wants to be a part of the household?” John doesn't say 'us' because that sure as hell will never happen. She is too different to ever be considered family by John or Alfred. And he's sure she wouldn't even want to be considered family by him and Alfred. She would never accept Alfred as anything other than 'the butler'. No matter that he raised Wayne and John. No matter that Alfred is the only father figure that really shaped their lives. 

“John, don't jump to conclusions.” 

“I want her gone,” John says. She looks at him like she's a bit scared. He rolls his eyes. “I'm not gonna stab her in the heart with my fancy rapier.” 

“I didn't think you would,” she says. 

“Right.” He grins and she grins back. 

~+~  
John wakes up because he hears noises in the hall. He unfurls from the chair he fell asleep in, crosses the room, and then freezes in the door to the hall.  
At first all he can see is the back of Bambi's head, and then the other details register: Wayne's fingers in Bambi's hair, Bambi on her knees. Wayne is staring at him. Right into John's eyes. Frozen too. John's brain makes the right conclusion on the spot: Blow-job.

“Don't fucking move,” John says. He can't deal with this. He sees Bambi freeze too, but it only half registers, because Wayne is still staring at him. What the fuck?  
She doesn't move and Wayne doesn't either as John hurries to his room, staring straight ahead, not wanting to know how Wayne's dick looks in her mouth, or her mouth, or anything at all. He's seen too much already. 

~+~  
The whole incident causes a minor shit-storm. He can hear Bambi arguing with Wayne the next day on his way to the kitchen. 

Alfred gives him a look. “Happy birthday John.”

John sighs, taking a sip of coffee. “Thanks.” He's finally sixteen. He can have it and he needs it too this morning. “I caught her giving him a blow-job in the hall to the library.” 

“Your library?” Alfred asks, not even batting an eyelash about the blow-job. John figures Alfred's seen worse in his days. 

“Yeah, that one. And I think she isn't pleased I am wandering the halls of the manor at night,” John snorts. 

Alfred smiles. “There is cake in the fridge.” 

John smiles back. “You are the best,” John says, standing up to get it. It's his favourite, of course it is. The day looks brighter all of a sudden. 

~+~  
John is trying to avoid the talk about the whole thing by not coming straight home after school, but of course it only works for so long.  
Wayne is waiting for him in the hall, and a shiny dark blue Ford in the drive-way. It could've been such a good day, John thinks. 

“We need to talk,” Wayne says. 

John nods. “Figured.” He has no idea what Wayne even wants to say, but he knows that Bambi wants him to be on his way to a boarding-school tomorrow. So she can blow Wayne in every freaking room without any disruption. The thought alone makes John sick to the stomach.  
John takes his usual seat in the library and waits for Wayne to start.  
Wayne doesn't sit down. 

“I am sorry you saw that,” Wayne says. 

John is a bit confused. “What?” 

“It was irresponsible of me and Bambi to do-”

“Have a blow-job in the freaking hall?” John supplies. 

“Yes, that,” Wayne says, running a hand through his hair. “It won't happen again.” 

“You mean you try to act like an adult for once? Or you're going to send me to a boarding-school?”

“You heard that?” Wayne asks. 

Duh, John thinks and nods. “Yeah, she is kinda loud.” 

“I would never send you away, John. Never.” 

“But me being here messes with your love-life. She doesn't like me,” John says and after a second adds: “being here.”

“That is not her call. She'll have to learn to live with it. With you. I am not sending you away, John,” Wayne repeats. “Never.” 

“Okay,” John says. 

~+~  
“You love that kid the most!” she says sharply and John pushes closer to the wall, so he won't be seen and holds his breath. The argument had been going on for good ten minutes now and John just hadn't known what to do. He hadn't wanted them to know he was there. By accident mind you, but still, it could look like spying and Bambi doesn't like him anyway. No need to get into a fight with her again – over nothing. That happens way too often. 

“That's ridiculous, you can't even compare-” 

“Now I am ridiculous?” Her voice is really high and shrill. John winces. 

“I didn't say you,” Wayne answers and he sounds feed up with her.  
Good, John thinks meanly. Wayne needs to get rid of her. The sooner the better. 

“I just don't get why he has always to come first,” she says. A bit calmer now. She's trying to get on his good side again. 

“And that is the whole problem,” Wayne replies. “I think it's better that Alfred drives you home.” 

“Bruce-”

“I really don't want to talk to you right now, Bambi.”  
There is a lot of silence and then John can hear her leaving. Her heels making that annoying sound on the marble floor of the hall.  
“You can come out now, John,” Wayne says softly.  
John bites his lip. But of course Wayne would know. He was trained by ninjas (John is pretty fucking sure of that). 

“So, do you love me the most of all?” John says grinning when he comes out of his hiding place in the shadows. 

“You should know,” Wayne answers. 

John shakes his head. He does, maybe. They don't talk about things like that much. “I should.” 

“I do,” Wayne says and John looks at his face. Wayne looks very serious as he says it, but there is also something like a flicker of pain in his eyes, only for a second, but John is sure he saw it. He wonders what that is about. Maybe about Rachel, maybe about his parents? Alfred? Does Wayne feel guilty that he loves John most of all the people he has feelings for at all? And that is only a handful anyway. Everyone should feel lucky as hell that Wayne cares for them. 

John swallows. He steps right into Wayne's personal space and pulls him into a hug. They don't hug that often anymore, now that John feels he's too old (or something) for random acts of affection, but this moment here, it calls for a hug. John leans his head on Wayne's shoulder. John's grown quite a bit over the last year. Wayne smells like expensive cologne and his suit feels soft and clean against John's skin. John's hold tightens around Wayne a bit more and he presses closer still. Sometimes this doesn't seem to be enough, John thinks.  
After a brief moment of hesitation, Wayne hugs back just as fiercely. John lets out a sigh of relief.  
He's missed that, but he's also really fucking conflicted about touching Wayne at all. 

 

 **~four~**  
John wakes up with a gasp, his dick painfully hard. He remembers hands on his shoulders and fingers tangled in his hair. Big hands.  
He lies in bed and refuses to acknowledge what his wet dream was about. Who his wet dream was about.  
The images don't fade. They are very clear in John's mind. He gives in, because he won't be able to fall asleep again, achingly hard.  
He tries not to think about anything, but the dream steals into his thoughts anyway. He comes embarrassingly fast, biting back Wayne's name. 

~+~  
John is messed up about it the whole next day. He is distracted during breakfast and can't even look at Wayne. It's all Wayne's fault in the first place anyway for letting Bambi suck his dick where everyone can see.  
John's livid only thinking about it. Thinking about her touching Wayne. He stomps on that feeling with all that he has and avoids Wayne for the rest of the day. And the next too.  
Wednesdays are chess-days, so it's hard to come up with something to not sit down with Wayne. John's never ever missed a single chess-day and he doesn't really want to miss this one.  
He sighs. This is so fucking messed up. 

John takes one look at Wayne and knows this will be a serious discussion again. John is not in the fucking mood to talk about his feelings. About his misplaced feelings for Wayne.  
“No,” he says. 

“What?” 

“No, I'm not fine, and no I don't want to talk about it,” John clarifies sitting down. 

“With me,” Wayne says. 

John sighs. “Yeah, with you.” 

“Is this about Bambi? Or about the incident?” 

“Wayne,” John says sharply. “I don't want to talk about it. What part of that was hard to understand?” 

“But you want to play chess?” 

“Yes,” John answers. 

Wayne nods and sets out the pieces. He takes the black ones for himself like always. John doesn't wonder. Wayne is Batman, of course he'll want the dark pieces.  
John loses the first game really fast. He just can't concentrate because he is staring at Wayne's fingers.  
“John?” 

“Yeah, I know. I am still thinking.” 

“You are staring at my pieces,” Wayne says. 

“No, not really,” John replies absent-minded. 

“What?” 

“Nothing,” John answers and makes his move. It's a bad one. His head just isn't in the game. 

When he loses the third round Wayne puts the pieces away and looks at him. “John-”

“I can't. I'm sorry, I can't,” John says, leaning back in the chair. He can feel Wayne's gaze on him and it makes him flush, makes him feel hot all over. If he could, he thinks he would explode with all the tension inside his body. Any second now he's going to tremble with it all. 

“There is obviously something on your chest,” Wayne tries again. 

Yeah, there is, but John just doesn't think that telling Wayne he's jerking off to thoughts of him would go over well. Wayne has all kinds of issues himself and having his – John has still no idea what they are to each other – lusting after him? Would probably make him feel miserable. Or he would try and be understanding or whatever. John doesn't think he could take that from Wayne. To have his feelings explained away by him. It would be bullshit and they both would know it. You can't explain these things away. John is not a kid anymore. He is sixteen and then some. He is a sexual being and he feels attracted to Wayne. But that is not Wayne's problem. Wayne has Bambi.  
John sighs. “I can't talk about it with you.” 

“You can talk about everything with me. I won't judge.” 

“Yes, you would. In this case you would,” John says. He's sure of it, because how could Wayne not? It is after all something that concerns Wayne directly. John’s feelings for Wayne can't be anything than unwanted right now. 

“John-”

“Don't fucking pressure me,!” John explodes. 

“Fine,” Wayne says, getting up. “You can come to me any time. You know that, right?” 

John nods, but he also knows he won't tell Wayne.  
This is John's problem and John's alone. 

~+~  
It doesn't go away. John thought if he could just go back to jerking off to strangers it would go away, but it doesn't work like that.  
He finds himself watching Wayne. He watches Wayne with Bambi too. Small things like him holding her hand, kissing her cheek or her lips, or dragging her closer.  
He tries not to notice how she melts into his arms, how she pushes against him. Until he realises she wants him to see this.  
This is her way of demonstrating where she stands, where he stands, and that this is hers and he can never have it.  
It makes John want to rip her heart out. He balls his hands to fists instead. He hasn't been so angry in a long time.  
He throws himself into school-life and martial arts. He spends more time at Lindsey's with Andy or goes swimming, jogging, anything, to not be at home when Wayne is there. When she is there. 

~+~  
“I'm screwed,” he declares on a Friday roughly three months after the blow-job incident. 

“Yeah,” Andy answers. John's just told Andy about the blow-job thing and about his fantasies and about how Bambi makes him want to rip her heart out. “You are. Why can't you fall for someone-?” Andy stops and takes a deep breath. “I know it's not like you can choose these things.” 

“Exactly. If I could I wouldn't have fallen for Wayne.” 

“So, what are you going to do now?”

“Jerk off to Wayne, and keep the rest to myself, and maybe try to get rid of her.” 

Andy gives him a look. “Get rid of her?”

“Why is it that every time I mention that, you guys look at me like I would put a knife between her ribs?” 

“Sometimes you can make a guy wonder,” Andy admits. 

“I wouldn't. It would be wrong. Even she knows and provokes me with her actions.” 

“She knows? Are you sure?” 

“I am sure. She is displaying her-” John stops to find the right word, “claim on Wayne,” he settles on. 

“Your claim is older. You had him first,” Andy says. 

John laughs. “No I didn't.”

“Yes, you did. You claimed his heart: of all the boys in the orphanage he chose you. He loves you.”

“Not like I want him to.”

“Like he can. It should be enough,” Andy answers.  
John knows that, but it's not anymore. 

 

 **~five~**  
John nearly calls Bambi 'bitch' to her face and she looks triumphant about it.  
He balls his hands to fists on the table and stares at Wayne in the doorway. This is escalating. Everyday a bit more. It's like it delights her to torture him, to punish him for loving Wayne. It makes John sick. 

“What is going on?” Wayne asks in his no-nonsense voice. John used to call it 'the scary one' in his head when he was younger. 

“Nothing, Bruce,” Bambi says with a sweet smile, stepping into his personal space like she belongs there. Like it's her right. John takes a deep breath. 

“John?” Wayne doesn't believe her and he has all the reasons not to. He is asking John because he trusts John to tell him the truth. But John can't. Admitting to her torturing him, would mean he'll have to admit to his feelings for Wayne, and Bambi knows John would never do that. 

“We were talking,” John settles on, because it is a version of the truth. And that is better than a lie. 

“John,” Wayne says, removing himself from her space. She tries to grab Wayne's arm, but he sidesteps her with practised ease.  
He's standing just on the other side of the kitchen-table. Only a bit of wood separating them. John can see Wayne's fingers twitch on his sides and then he plants his hands on the table top, close to John's fists. John can feel the warmth his body gives off. He uncurls his fingers slowly and lets them touch Wayne's. Wayne's shoulders drop. The tension easing a bit. 

“It's okay,” John says quietly. “I can deal.” And he steps back, losing the contact with Wayne's fingertips, missing it already. So fucking much it hurts. 

“John,” Wayne says sharply. 

“I have homework to do and you have a date,” John replies. 

“Bruce, we'll be late again,” Bambi throws in. 

“And you don't want to be late again. I'm at Lindsey's over the weekend,” he adds as he practically flees the kitchen. 

~+~  
“I want to punch her in her stupid, smug face,” Lindsey says. 

Jon loves Lindsey. Loves her with all his bruised heart. He grabs the pillow tighter and doesn't look at her while she rages on. He lets Andy stroke his hair instead.  
“Nothing to do about it.” 

“She's plain cruel and you need to tell Mister Wayne, so he can get rid of that bitch,” Lindsey says. 

“I told Wayne I will be staying here the weekend, but if you and Andy-” 

“Shut up, John,” Andy cuts in gently. “Of course you can stay.” 

“Listen to my boyfriend. He's clever,” Lindsey says, getting up. 

“Where are you going?” Andy asks. 

“Kitchen. I'm getting us ice-cream. It helps when you're unhappy, or stressed out or when the world is generally a shitty place. It's how the female race deals with shit.” 

“Pistachio?” John asks hopeful. 

“Yeah, and if I have to steal it, I'll get it for you,” Lindsey answers.  
John thinks she would dismember and bury the body with him if he only asked. She would steal the car and grab the money and run. 

“You need to hold on to her,” he tells Andy. 

“With tooth and nail,” Andy says kissing John's head.  
John buries deeper into the pillow. 

~+~  
“You are spending a lot of time over at Lindsey's place,” Wayne remarks during one of the chess-games. John's really trying to only concentrate on the game and pieces, strategies, trying to outsmart Wayne. He won the first round today, but lost the last two. 

“Yeah. You're spending a lot of time with _her_ ,” John says. 

“Does that mean that you and Lindsey...?” Wayne ignores the barb.

“That is not even a proper question, Wayne,” John answers. 

“Are you and Lindsey together?” Wayne asks. 

“Lindsey is with Andy.” 

“Are you and Lindsey and Andy together?” Wayne wants to know. 

John looks up from the board. There is something in Wayne's voice that isn't only curiosity, that isn't concern either. There is something else.  
“And what if? It wouldn't be any of your business.” 

“I'm your -” Wayne stops, stumbling over the word. 

“Yeah,” John says. “I don't know either what to call you, not even in my head. Because we are not parent and child. We never were.” That doesn't mean that John doesn't care, or that they aren't family. Their own weird brand of it. 

“I want you to be happy. You used to be happy.” 

“Before she came into our lives,” John spits out. He is so tired of the petty fights and backstabbing. He is so tired to be on guard all the time when she is here. This house isn't his home anymore. It is enemy territory. 

“John, you need to try and-” 

“I don't need to do shit. She hates me. She thinks I am a treat. She makes my life miserable because I-” he bites his lip, swallowing the confession down. “She hates me and I don't want to be here when she is here. I don't want this house that used to be my _home_ become a battle ground, because she feels insecure for some fucking reason!” He gets up and then just stands there in the middle of the library. Shaking with all the suppressed need and anger, so much fucking rage and despair. No way can he concentrate on the game anymore. This is why John doesn't want to talk to Wayne about it. Wayne doesn't get it. 

“You should have told me.” 

“You should have noticed,” John gives back. “There is always a reason when someone close to you removes themselves. Always.” And it might not be fair to pin this all on Wayne alone, but John really doesn't care for fair right now. This is happening in Wayne's home. Their home. 

“I tried to talk to you about it, you blocked every attempt.”

“I tried to understand this. To understand why you are with her? But I don't really get it. The only thing I can come up with is: she is not Rachel. She is so not Rachel that she could be another species.” 

“Rachel wasn't perfect.” 

“Because she left you for Dent?” John asks. 

“John-” and it's a warning, but John ignores it. 

“She was a good person. One that cared and tried to do the right thing, always. Bambi, she is insecure and plain mean.” 

Wayne keeps silent and John waits, watching him.  
“What do you want?” 

“I want for her to not hurt me anymore,” John says. 

“I still don't get how she-” 

“She does, why isn't it enough that I tell you she is hurting me?” John says sharply. “What do you need? Bruises? Scratches? Cigarette-burns? I don' have those to show.” He takes a deep breath. He really doesn't know why he bothers anymore. “I won't come back home until she's gone.” 

“John you can't just stay away.” 

“Fine. I will sleep here and I will have breakfast here, go to school and spend the rest of my free time with Andy and Lindsey at their places.” 

“You are going back to the orphanage?” 

“It's Andy's home. It was mine. I can't be here with her.” John takes another deep breath and looks at Wayne. “I never wanted to be that person. That one who will make you choose, but I can't take this. I won't take this. The sane thing to do is to remove myself from this environment.” 

Wayne closes his eyes. “I won't bring her home anymore.” 

“Thank you.” John just hopes it will be enough. 

~+~  
It's not. She ambushes John after school the next week. 

“You little shit,” she says, trying to grab his arm, but John is fast, he sidesteps her and is a few feet away before she can even blink. John thinks she might be drunk. 

“I didn't do anything to you.” 

“You want him for yourself and you told Bruce lies-”

“I told him the truth. You made my life miserable.” 

She laughs. “You make your life miserable, because you're in love with him, you little faggot.” 

John really wants to punch her, but he doesn't have to, because Lindsey does. “Wanted to do that since forever,” she says, shaking her hand out. “Hurts me as fuck, so I guess it'll leave bruises at least.”  
John didn't even see her approaching. But he should have known that Andy and Lindsey would be hot on his heels. They saw the whole thing for fucking sure. 

“Now he'll dump her for sure,” Andy comments. 

Bambi is seething. “This isn't over. This is assault.” 

“Go on bitch. Try. My daddy is rich and I'm a minor,” Lindsey hisses. 

“Also: three people who witnessed you trying to hit a kid,” Eggert says lazily from the fence. “I would keep this to myself if I was you, but what do I know?”  
John nearly smiles. Eggert's dad is an ass-kicking lawyer. She gives John a nasty look and then stalks off. 

“Are you alright?” Lindsey asks. 

“I'm okay. I just- fuck. She came to the school.” 

“What a psycho-bitch.” 

“I feel bad for her,” Andy says. But then Andy would. He is just too good for this world full of sharks. Thank god he has Lindsey to look out for his ass, John thinks.

Lindsey gives him a look. “What?” 

“I mean, she brought it on herself obviously, but I think she really liked Wayne and now she messed it up because she was jealous of John.” 

“Yeah, what was that all about?” Eggert asks. “Is she nuts?” 

“I would say, hell yes,” Lindsey answers. 

“She thinks that Wayne loves John more than her,” Andy says. 

“It's true,” John throws in and doesn't elaborate. 

“Should I tell my dad? Do you want to sue her?” Eggert asks. 

“Nah.” 

“Will you tell Wayne?” Andy asks. 

“Maybe.” 

“I'll wait with you until Alfred shows up,” Eggert says.

“It's ice-cream Wednesday,” Andy replies. 

“That is a happy coincidence,” Eggert shrugs. 

It's also chess-day, at least for John. John is sure Wayne will know as soon as he sees John that something is wrong. Nothing to do about it now. 

~+~  
Wayne hugs him in the hallway. John is too surprised to do anything else than hug back and he is glad he doesn't have to ask for it. He needs this so fucking much right now. Even if it hurts to be so close to Wayne and not being able to do anything about it.

“I'm sorry. Mister Eggert called.”

“I'm okay,” John mumbles into Wayne's shirt. He doesn't let go and neither does Wayne until Alfred calls them for cake and tea into the kitchen. 

~+~  
The whole thing with Bambi is hushed up and swept under the rug. John doesn't ask how. He's just glad it's over. 

 

 **~six~**  
“You were right, John,” Wayne says on Saturday, a week after Bambi came to John's school and Wayne dumped her. “She wasn't Rachel and I wanted someone who wouldn't remind me of her.” 

There is something in Wayne's tone that makes John look at him hard. “I do,” he says eventually. 

Wayne stares at the TV, John stares at Wayne's profile. “Yes.” 

“How?” John is really curious. He has no idea if this is a good thing, but you can't tell with most things like this at first. 

“Because you always try to do the right thing, and make the people around you happy, even if it hurts you." 

Suddenly John wonders how much Wayne knows. “I try not to take on more than I can endure.”

“The thing is, John,” Wayne says and turns his head to look at John. They are way too close John thinks, and suppresses the urge to lean in closer still. “You never know how much you can endure until you have to.”

“Seems, I break easily,” John jokes, but it falls flat. 

Wayne grabs his neck and pulls him close, John buries his head against Wayne's shoulder: his mouth a bit open, damping the skin on every exhale. Wayne hugs him tighter for a few glorious seconds before he loosens his grip again.  
“No, you don't.”  
John wants to bite down on the exposed skin, or turn and kiss Wayne's neck, he exhales slowly instead and feels Wayne shiver. Easier than you think, John thinks. 

~+~  
John isn't sure if it's the absence of Bambi whose presence was like a wall between them at times, or if it's them, but things are shifting. Wayne is home far more often again, he and John are spending more time together. Not only on Wednesdays and for fencing lessons, but in the evenings too.  
John blows his friends off and stays home with Wayne instead.  
It's nice, even if it sometimes (all the fucking time) hurts to be so close to Wayne. 

~+~  
In John's defence no one ever uses the outside pool, except for him and Andy. Usually he would've heard the footsteps on the gravel or something, but as stated countless times before: Wayne was trained by ninjas.  
The startled choked off noise makes his eyes fly open and somehow the shock of seeing Wayne there, watching John, triggers his orgasm. It takes him entirely by surprise. He bites his lip, closes his eyes and rides it out.  
When he opens his eyes again, his breathing calming down, Wayne is gone. John is not surprised. He is shivering in the warm June sun. He wipes his hand on the grass and stays where he is, thinking. 

~+~  
Dinner is an awkward affair. Alfred gives them looks, but doesn't say anything. John wonders if he should apologize, but really it wasn't his fault. He is a sixteen, nearly seventeen year old boy, of freaking course he would jerk off and he had thought he was alone.  
If Wayne has a problem with seeing John naked, then it's exactly that: Wayne's problem. 

~+~  
Wayne keeps his distance and John misses him. Misses the random acts of affection and sitting close on the couch. He wonders why Wayne is acting like this. 

“You are being weird, because you saw me naked,” John says, playing with a pawn. 

“No, not because I saw you naked.” 

John looks up and at Wayne's face. “Because you saw me jerking off? I bet you watched a lot of people pleasuring themselves-”

“John,” Wayne warns. 

John ignores him. “Or is it because I came watching you?” 

“Can we just not talk about it?” Wayne asks, he sounds pained.  
John nods. 

~+~  
Sometimes Jon catches Wayne watching him and he wonders. Maybe, just maybe Wayne is feeling something for John too. Something that is in no way parental love. Maybe he was feeling it for a while now and waiting? Holding back, because John is still a minor? Because John is Wayne's ward? John has no idea, but he thinks it's stupid.  
Something needs to be done. 

 

 **~seven~**  
John doesn't have a plan, but he thinks the film-premier Wayne is taking them to, might be a good opportunity to try and take their relationship a bit further. Maybe at the end of the night John can steal a kiss. 

~+~  
John is drunk, maybe not completely, but a bit (on champagne, no one asked John if he was old enough to drink) and Wayne is tipsy too. John knows it, because John knows Wayne.  
He can't recall how exactly they ended up on the sofa in the library all over each other, but the smell of Wayne and his laugher against John's throat makes John want so badly it hurts all over. 

“Please, please,” John whispers, and he doesn't ask for things often, and he never begged for anything, especially not here, not Wayne, but he is so close to begging right now.  
He's hard and Wayne must feel it against his thigh. There is no way John can hide it, what with him being sprawled on top of Wayne. The thing is John doesn't want to either. What John wants right now is for Wayne to touch him, to press his lips against John's, something, anything. 

“John,” Wayne says and his voice sounds deep and so familiar but not. There is something there and John would love to analyse it on any other day, but not now. 

John wants to tell Wayne all about his feelings, how lately (ha!) Wayne is staring in all his masturbation– fantasies. How much John loves him, how much he needs him now. How he never wanted anyone like this, not enough to try, not enough to make the first move, not enough to plead and beg.  
John licks the corner of Wayne's lips and sits up a bit straighter to look him in the eyes. “Wayne,” he says softly. 

Wayne reaches out then, his big hand sliding from John's shoulder up to his neck, his thumb pressing into the hollow where neck meets shoulder, just above John's collarbone. If John's lucky it'll leave a bruise. John swallows. He knows that Wayne could kill him with his hands. But he never was afraid of anything Wayne would do, now, now he is. Or maybe he's afraid of all the things Wayne won't do.  
Wayne's thumb is messaging circles into John's skin, absent-minded. Or deliberately. John really can't tell right now. The air is thick with anticipation. John knows that Wayne wants him too, right now at least. And that's all that matters anyway. 

“You've never-” Wayne starts. 

John interrupts by shaking his head a bit. “I've never wanted to.” 

“So you don't even know _what_ you want,” Wayne says. 

John leans forward, against Wayne's hold on him. Wayne doesn't give an inch, it hurts; Wayne's fingers digging into John's throat, but John is angry now. He does know what he wants. Right now he does and he has known for a while. “You. I want you. I want you to touch me, I want you to kiss me I want you to fu-”  
Wayne squeezes. It's a warning and John takes a shaky breath. He reaches out and grabs Wayne's head in his hands, tangles his fingers in Wayne's hair. Looks at him hard. “I am not your child. I never have been your child,” John says. He's not going to give up easily. Wayne has to know it. John is stubborn as fuck when he wants something and he wants this bad. 

“You are my ward. I am responsible-”

John wriggles in Wayne's lap and Wayne hisses. A moan escapes John's lips. This feels so good. “Please don't make me beg, Bruce,” John says. He can feel, and see, even taste the second Wayne gives in.  
The resignation of Wayne's resistance is all encompassing.  
He drags John closer and kisses him. Wayne's lips are soft, but the kiss is passionate and hard. He tastes like expensive whisky and something sweet, John can't place. 

~+~  
This is not how John has imagined it in his head so many times. It's better of course, of course it's better, because it's real. Wayne's hands are big and firm and he knows what he's doing. John has no idea, he can just go with what feels right.  
Wayne doesn't let him do much anyway. He is in charge here and John doesn't mind at all. He lets Wayne strip him of his shirt and manhandle him on the sofa so that he's lying on his back. Looking up at Wayne. He can't really see the expression on Wayne's face, because the light is behind Wayne. It doesn't matter. Maybe it's even better that John can't see Wayne's face.  
Wayne leans down and kisses John again and while he's kissing John his hands are roaming over John's torso and down. Until they find the edge of John's dress-pants. John arches into the too light touch of Wayne's hand against his lower stomach and the sliver of palm that graces his hard cock. He moans as Wayne opens his fly and strokes a finger over John's dick. His hands clench around the arm of the sofa above his head. 

“Bruce,” he gets out and Wayne kisses him hard like he can't help himself. He reaches inside John's pants and takes hold of John's cock. John nearly sobs at how good it feels. It's so different than when he does this himself. Wayne strokes him with practised ease. He starts slow and builds up, speeds up with every sigh, every moan, every clench of John's fingers, it seems. Like he's cataloguing every reaction. He probably is and John doesn't give a fuck. He's too far gone. And this is not enough. Not enough and Wayne is too far away, he wants to feel Wayne's hot skin against his own. He makes himself let go of the sofa and grabs Wayne's shoulder, pulling him closer, trying to get rid of the shirt.  
Wayne doesn't cooperate, he speeds his strokes up instead, gracing the tip of John's dick with his thumb every other time. John's fingers dig into Wayne's shoulder hard. He is so close. He spreads his legs as far as he can with his pants still in the way to make it easier for Wayne, and turns to look at Wayne. Wayne is staring at his face, unblinking. Taking everything in. It could be creepy as fuck, but it makes John feel hot all over again. He isn't sure if he wants to come right now or hold back and ride the edge for a bit longer.  
In the end it's not really his decision. Wayne does something John wouldn't even think about and John comes silently, biting his lip and closing his eyes, all over Wayne's hand.  
When he opens them again Wayne is still looking at him. Wayne's hand feels heavy on John's thigh. He wants to never ever move again. Wants to stay in this moment forever because it's close to perfect. 

“You,” Wayne says, leaning away and John grabs him with both hands to pull him in again.  
John's a mess and tired and he needs to clean up and take care of Wayne. John slides his hand down and Wayne stops him. “Don't.” His voice sounds sharp, cutting, final. 

John sits up and leans in to kiss him, which Wayne allows. “Don't feel guilty, okay?” he whispers. 

“John-”

“Don't make me feel guilty,” John cuts in. 

Wayne sighs. “I won't.” 

“Can we sleep now?” 

“Yes,” Wayne says, kissing his forehead.

John closes his eyes.

~+~  
Wayne breaks his promise at the first opportunity that arises. He goes on a fucking business-trip the next week without telling John. Alfred is the one who tells John. John is livid.  
They talk on the phone, but John can barely speak with him for five minutes because he misses Wayne so much and his voice makes him shiver and Wayne refuses to tell him when he will be back. And John is fucking angry.  
And then there is the fact that Wayne is seen with pretty women (John stalks the blogs and gossip-sites, okay?) nearly every night. As if to show John that their one night didn't mean anything. That it shouldn't mean anything to John either.  
What a dick, John thinks. 

~+~  
When Wayne finally comes back, John has made up his mind about the whole thing. He is not strong enough to be hurting all the time. They have to figure their shit out. 

“So if I wouldn't live here anymore, if I weren't your ward anymore, would it be okay then?” John asks and he's really pissed off now. Wayne always makes things too damn complicated. John wants this, he's sure of it. He loves Wayne. 

“I don't know.” 

John takes a deep breath to stay calm. “We'll see then.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I'm leaving.” 

“John!” 

“I'm leaving. I'm going on a freaking self-finding quest to Tibet or something.” 

“Think about this. What about Andy?” 

“He is going to college, he will go to university, he will be a famous artist when I come back. I am not afraid for him,” John says. 

“John-” Wayne starts again. 

“They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, I wonder if it will be true,” John cuts in. 

“If you go, you'll have to manage on your own,” Wayne says sharply. 

John looks at him disbelieving. “You're cutting me off so I'll stay? And you think this will work? How the hell can I live with you? Now? How can I be here wanting you to touch me all the time? And you denying it. How?” 

“You think this is only difficult for you?” 

“You make it difficult for us. This is all on you Wayne,” John says and sees Wayne flinch. He was looking for it. He wants to hurt Wayne right now so much. “You think keeping me here and wanting me and not giving in is something noble? It's not. It's torture for me, for you-” John stops, looking at Wayne hard. “You are so messed up,” he states.  
This is Wayne's punishment for touching John in the first place, he wants to punish himself so badly for it that he doesn't see or doesn't care that it's not necessary, that he is hurting John in the process too. 

“You knew that from the start.” 

“Yes. But I won't stand for this. You want to cut me off. Fine. I can manage on my own. I am not staying with you here so I can be your reminder of guilt, of shame, of WRONG.” 

“John,” Wayne says calmly, stepping closer. 

John takes a few steps back, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Don't. Don't touch me. I will hurt you.” He's probably still not good enough to win against Wayne, but he is good enough to do some serious damage and he doesn't want that. 

Wayne stops. “You don't have to rush this decision.” 

“I'm not jumping the gun. I am leaving. And soon,” he answers and hurries out of the library. He needs to say goodbye to Alfred.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Still, so you are a model and you live with this girl and that is your life now. You are carving a life for yourself out there, John. If you’ve realised it or not. I don't think you want to come back.”_   
> _John exhales smoke and looks over the small garden. Maybe he doesn't want to come back. “I am just John here.”_   
> _“You were only just John for me too, Blake,” Andy says. “But I get it. You are not Wayne's when you are hers.”_

PART IV. (age 17-19)

**~One~**  
Alfred doesn't ask if John is sure. If he wants to think about it some more. And John is glad Alfred doesn't. John doesn't want to think about it. He's thought about nothing else for weeks.

“I put aside half of your pocket money for years,” Alfred says handing him a credit-card.

“Thanks.”

“It should be enough for a while,” Alfred answers.

“I'll come back,” John says. He is sure of it. He just can't say when.

“I know.”

“I don't- I can't be here while he is so...”

“Stubborn?” Alfred supplies.

John laughs. “Yeah. That.”

“I will miss you John,” Alfred says hugging him.

“I will miss you too. I'll write.”

“You should.”

~+~  
John is done with school and he can do whatever the hell he wishes. He has done the years he has to, to have some basic education and he is not going to college like other kids, but instead he's going to Europe with Eggert who is taking a year off to see the world.  
John is sure Eggert doesn't want him to pay for a single freaking thing, because everything is already paid for anyway. At least in Germany and Italy. Eggert said they will figure out the rest when they have to.  
With everyone else John would insist on paying half of the trip, but Eggert has a way with words and John knows he'll lose that argument anyway. So he pays what he can. Coffee here and there and for his own food.

~+~  
“So, me and you?” Eggert says, cutting a roll in half.

John passes him the butter. “Seems so.”

“Shame Andy is only sixteen,” Eggert answers.

“Well, he needs to finish school and then maybe next year-”

“You don't want to go back to the manor?” Eggert interrupts.

“Not yet.”

“A year from now on is pretty fucking advanced planning John.”

“I know.”

“I'm not saying I'm not game for what-the-hell-ever, because I am. I know I'll have to do something with my life at some point, but at eighteen I am still free from having to behave like a sane responsible adult. And thank the universe for that.”

“I don't think you will ever be a sane, responsible adult.”

“Thank you kindly, sir.” Eggert gives back. He pours coffee into his mug, but John snatches his own away before he can pour John a mug too.

“I'll take tea.”

“I swear Wayne manor messed you up.”

“You have no idea,” John answers.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“I'm don't think you want to hear it,” John replies. He is pretty sure this is nothing Eggert would want to have to deal with. John isn't even sure why he and Eggert are friends in the first place. Maybe because John kinda likes Eggert, even if he can be an asshole sometimes.

“If it's a bit of your man-pain, I can probably stomach some of that.”

John thinks about it for a full three minutes. “I'm in love with Wayne.”

“Okay and we're done.” Eggert answers and John laughs. “Sorry, but I'm just not that kind of friend.”

“It's okay. You're the friend I need right now.” Sometimes that's all that mattersanyway, John thinks.

~+~  
John and Eggert are taking everything in they can. They go out clubbing, which John didn't think he would enjoy, but kinda does. This is a part of life John didn't even consider before. He had all the money, and his world only consisted of school, Andy and the manor. Wayne. Wayne was a big fucking part of John and he misses Wayne every-fucking-day, but as the weeks pass he misses Wayne every day a bit less and that has to count for something.  
Wayne has the means and ways to get John home, but he doesn't. John left an address with Alfred and he still leaves an address with Alfred every time Eggert and he are changing houses, hotels, cottages. Cities, Countries.  
It's Wayne's move, this one. John told him how he feels. He knows Wayne feels it too, that attraction between them. The one that John dares to call love. He tries not to think about Wayne too often, but sometimes when he's lying in bed his brain repeats the night, that one and only night. The way Wayne kissed him, the way his hands felt against John's skin and John aches and curses and hates himself for it all, but mostly he just curls his fingers around his dick and comes really freaking hard.

 

**~Two~**  
The life he lives with Eggert out of hotel rooms and bags is so different. John can't plan for it and sometimes he misses the routine, but mostly he doesn't. He relishes in the freedom to be who he is, to be someone else tomorrow.  
Every day is a new day, every town and city a new adventure. They stay long enough in Italy that John picks up the language enough to be able to talk with the locals.

“You speak Italian,” Eggert says.

“Yeah,” John answers handing him the pasta he just got for half the price they sell it to the tourists. “I guess. I picked up a word here and there,” John shrugs.

“Dude we're only four months here and you get pasta for half the price.”

“Well,” John has no idea what to say to that. It's a skill he guesses. He was always good with languages. Not writing, or whatever, but talking to people. It's a part of him that he is very aware of. The part that wants to know what the hell is going on, because he needs to know where the emergency exits are.

“It's time we move on. I hear France is nice this time of year.”

“I hear France is nice every time of year if you can afford it.”

“We can afford it,” Eggert answers.

~+~  
John thinks that this is a life rich guys led some hundred years ago. Getting out of the home town and packing their stuff to see the world, before they had to marry and take over the business or estate or whatever. He wonders if that was what Wayne wanted for him too. He can't ask now.  
He sends letters to Alfred, but he has no real idea what to tell him. So the letters become cards very fast. He mostly writes 'I'm fine' or 'I'm alive' or 'greetings from Eggert too'. He knows it's not enough, but he hopes Alfred understands.

~+~  
Eggert keeps him busy with parties and restaurants and clubs. John drinks way too much and picks up a bad smoking habit in France.

“You know it suites you,” Eggert remarks one night while they're hanging out on the balcony drinking way too expensive wine.

John takes a drag and then looks at the cigarette. “The smoking?”

“Yeah.”

“It's bad as hell for my health and my Sensei would smack me over the head for it.”

“You are on a break. No need to worry about Kung-Fu or whatever.”

“Karate,” John says. “You should know. We had class together.”

Eggert rolls his eyes. “I really don't care. I miss the fencing thought.”

~+~  
“Are you planning on going home for your brother's wedding?” John asks, reading the letter over Eggert's shoulder.

“It's kinda expected,” Eggert says. He and his brother aren't exactly close, but he is marrying and that is a big event. “I bet he only marries her now so I'll have to cut my trip short. What a dick.”

John laughs. “I bet it was her idea.”

Eggert sighs. “You’re invited too.”

“Not going. I’m going to Korea or Thailand.” John has thought about it for a while now. He does like Europe, but it's still too much like America. He wants to see something else and he does still have nearly all the money Alfred gave him.

“Son of a bitch,” Eggert curses. “I'll catch up with you if you let me know what dump you're staying in.”

“Give my best to the bride and groom,” John answers.

~+~  
John stays a few more days in the hotel in Lyon. It's paid for anyway and he likes the city. It's different being alone in a strange country. But John figured out pretty early that he is adaptable. He can manage.  
Eggert, because he is a crazy motherfucker, bought a ticket first class to Korea for John. John is going to Seoul. It's as good as any city, John thinks. At least he didn't have to decide if he wanted to go to Thailand instead.

John looks out of the window and wonders what Wayne is doing. The few times he called Alfred to hear how things were over at home, he didn't ask about Wayne, and Alfred didn't offer anything. He's probably on business trips and having affairs with beautiful women that don't remind Wayne of Rachel. John could check that, but he stays away from the gossips sites. He doesn't want to know. Maybe this is good for Wayne too, not only for John.  
They've been in each other's space for five years and some perspective sure is needed.

~+~  
Sometimes John wonders if there were other guys in Wayne's life. If John had been wrong in assuming that Wayne was totally straight. Wayne wasn't. Obviously. He had no problem with touching John's dick, but then John had been practically begging for it and – he can't even think about it without getting hard and also a bit embarrassed.  
It doesn't get John anywhere to think about it, but he can't really stop.  
He wonders if now that he is gone Wayne is seeking pleasure somewhere else. If there are boys he is hooking up with. Boys that aren't seventeen and don't look like John.

 

**~Three~**  
John meets Ma-ku while he gets his ass kicked. Well not really, but a bit. He can hold his own, but these guys are vicious and John is alone. Against four guys. She kicks one of the guys in the family jewels, and John grabs her hand as he sees an opening, and makes a run for it.

“Thanks,” he says.

She leans against a wall; her breathing ragged, and brushes her long hair out of her face. She is the most beautiful girl John's ever seen. Her lips are perfect and her eyes are smiling.  
“No problem.” Her English is heavily accented and John thinks it's cute as hell.

“You okay?” He wants to know.

“I should ask you. You're bleeding.” She points with one finger to John's face. It's only a split lip.

“Nothing to worry about. I’ve had worse.”

She raises an eyebrow. “You get into fights a lot?”

“I try not to?”

She laughs and it is not melodic, but loud and kinda goofy, which John finds still stupidly charming. “Does it work on most days?”

“Yeah, it does. I have no idea what I did to piss them off,” John answers. He has really no idea, because he does not speak Korean. Well, at least not yet. He is sure if he spends enough time here he will pick up a word or two. But he's only a week in Seoul.

She shrugs, her thin shoulders look graceful. John has the urge to run his fingers over the curve and maybe over her arm too, so he can tangle their fingers together or something. It's stupid. John has never been attracted like this to a stranger.  
“Some people don't need a reason. And you are not from here. That could be reason enough when people are drunk. Or maybe they just didn't like your face.”

“Can't fathom why. It's okay looking enough,” John jokes and she laughs again.

“I'm Ma-ku,” she says holding out her hand.

John grabs it. It's slender, but not small and there are cuts on her knuckles. Like she were in a fight. “John,” he says.

“Nice to meet you. You want to take care of that?”

John licks at his lip and spits out the blood. He should at least disinfect it or something. “Yeah.”

“You need help?” she asks.  
John has no idea if it's a come-on, because no one ever hit on John – or John just didn't care, didn't notice. He looks at her and she smiles. “I promise not to pin you down and have my wicked way with you.”

John laughs. He can't help it. He thinks he could take her any second of any day. She's smaller and thinner than him. “Yeah, I would like some help with it.”  
She nods.

~+~  
John lives in a room over a restaurant not in a hotel, because he doesn't need more luxuries than heating and warm water in the mornings, and he still doesn't have a job. The rent is cheap, even if he suspects he pays more than a Korean would.  
She raises an eyebrow as she enters.

“Well, I am not rich,” John says, heading for the alcohol to disinfect his wound.

“You do sound it,” she answers, looking around.

“Got into a fancy school. Is all.”

She nods like she gets it or like she doesn't really care. She grabs the bottle of clear liquid and takes out a tissue from her purse. Dips it into the alcohol and presses it carefully to John's split lip. It burns like hell. John hisses.  
“It's not that bad, is it?” she asks with a grin.  
He nods. He forgot how that felt. He hasn't been beat up in a really long fucking time. He can't say he misses it.

~+~  
He makes her tea, and then they watch some movie John has no idea what it’s about. She seems to like it and he doesn't disturb her to ask what-the-hell the people are talking about.  
She falls asleep on John's couch. He throws a blanket over her and goes to bed.

~+~  
“Sorry,” she says blurry eyed. Her hair is a mess and her make-up shot to hell. She rubs her eyes and John smiles at her. He had been out for a run already and is making tea.

“Breakfast?”

“Coffee?” she asks hopeful.

John shakes his head. “I don't have any. I have tea.”

“Tea then. Thank you. Can I use your shower?” Ma-ku asks stretching. Something about the way she asks it makes John look hard at her, but he can't pinpoint what exactly throws him off and he nods.

“Sure.”

“Thank you John.”

John listens to the shower and wonders what the hell he's doing. Bonding or something. Making friends. Alfred would be so proud. And Eggert would make dirty jokes about her sleeping over on the first night. Andy, well Andy...John has no idea, actually.  
Sometimes John misses home, but then he remembers how miserable Wayne made him feel and banishes all nostalgia into a box at the bottom of his heart. It does him no good right now.

~+~  
She looks different when she comes out of the small bathroom. Younger for one. John had been sure she was older than him, but now. Well, he'll have to ask. Her face has lost the soft touch and looks a bit plainer, a bit more ordinary than last night. But she is still beautiful. She is wearing one of John's t-shirts and it's too big on her. She's just that slim. And her skirt from last night. No shoes. Her toes are painted purple.

“I have bread and something that I hope is butter,” John says, putting a mug of tea on the table. She sits down.

“Thank you,” she grabs the package of maybe butter and then smiles at him. “It's not butter.”

“Okay?”

“It's a vegan bread-spread. You can still eat it. It's good for you.”

“You sound like Alfred,” John rolls his eyes.

“Alfred?”

“My – the man who raised me,” John settles on. Because when it comes down to it that is what Alfred is. The man who raised John. And John is really grateful for that.

“What about your parents?”

“They're dead. They died when I was a kid,” John shrugs. It's not hard anymore to talk about it. Most people don't ask any more questions when you tell them your parents died when you were little. John is glad for that courtesy.

“I'm sorry.”

“It's okay. It's not like it happened yesterday,” John says.

~+~  
John escorts her home and in the process she shows him a bit of the city. Her city; not the one on the postcards.  
When they're standing in front of her apartment building John wants to lean over and kiss her. He doesn't. He stands there awkwardly with his hands in his pockets instead.

She cocks her head. “You don't do that often, do you?”

“What?”

“Pick up someone?” She says, fiddling with her purse.

“No,” John admits. “And I didn't pick you up, we just-”

“Yeah,” she says. “You grabbed my hand and ran.”

“Good times,” John says with a smile.

She smiles back. “John-”

“Would you go out with me, for real?” he interrupts before he loses his nerve. He's never done it before and he never wanted to, but something about her calls to him and makes him feel at ease.

She looks surprised. John wonders why. He bets a lot of guys are asking her out. “John. I am not who you think I am.”

“Who the hell is? Besides I don't know who you are yet. I want to go out to find out who you are. I mean, no pressure. Just, coffee or something.”

“You don't even like coffee,” she teases.

“I do, but I prefer tea.”

She bites her lip and then nods. “Okay.”

“Okay,” John echoes.

 

**~Four~**  
There is something off about her. John knows people and he knows masks, and she told him she isn't who he thinks she is, but still. John knows it's more than him not knowing her that well.  
He simply doesn't care enough to rip her mask off.

~+~  
The thing is John has fun with her. She dances and makes awful dinners and likes to sing to the radio. She likes to talk too – a lot, and John feels like he has someone for himself for the first time. Someone no one else knows. Someone who doesn't care that he is Wayne's ward or that he has an unhealthy crush, someone who doesn't think John is damaged in some way and worries about him. Sometimes it makes him believe that he isn't damaged goods after all.

~+~  
John kisses her for the first time after their sixth date in front of her apartment building. It's not an especially romantic date or anything; it's not raining, there is no music, and no full moon to illuminate her face.  
The kiss is soft and a bit chased and he has no real idea why he is doing it, except that he wants to and he likes her and it feels right. She grabs his neck with delicate, but surprisingly strong fingers and somehow John knows then. Lets himself know, let’s himself register and catalogue and put together the pieces that make her her, and it still doesn't change a thing.  
She lets go of him and looks at him hard. “I am not-”

“I know,” John says, because he does and maybe he knew since the morning she came out of his bathroom. The softness of her face had gone, replaced with harder edges and lines. The way she stepped out, sure of herself and barefoot and still beautiful.

She steps back like he just said something horrible. He doesn't get it. “How long?”

Oh, John thinks. “I mean, I don't care. I really don't care,” John assures her. After all his first love was, maybe still is, Wayne. He was not playing around with her. He would never do something like that. It's fucking cruel.

“How can you not-”

“I kissed boys when I was a kid, the first person who touched my dick was a man,” John says flatly.

She stares at him for a long moment and John holds his breath. “I didn't mean to deceive you. It was just you liked this me and I like you,” she says. Her hands waving kind of aimlessly around her body.

“I know. I still want to go out with you. You don't have to wear a dress.”

“I like to wear dresses,” she says and blushes a bit.

“And getting into fights?” John teases.

She hides her hands behind her back. “I don't know. I just like to kick someone's ass sometimes.”

“Yeah, I know that feeling,” John answers and leans forward slowly to give Ma-ku enough time if she doesn't want him to kiss her. She meets him halfway. The kiss is less chased, less careful than the first they had shared. John thinks it's because Ma-ku doesn't feel the need to play a part for John anymore. She can just be herself with him now.  
John is all for that.

~+~  
It's a bit like having Andy back, except that with her he doesn't have any baggage. He is new to her and she is new to him. They sleep on the couch curled around each other and she never asks why he doesn't want to have sex with her. He kisses her on the cheek when she looks rumpled in his small kitchen, blurry eyed and adorable, preparing her first cup of coffee before she has to go to work. She never asks what he does for a living and he doesn't offer. But his money is slowly running out, so he studies the job-section with a dictionary in one hand and a mug of tea in the other.

~+~  
She catches him doing it and leans to kiss his temple. “I have a friend,” she says, “who is looking for someone like you.”

He looks up at her. “Someone who can kick ass?” he puts the newspaper aside and takes a sip of his tea.

“No, someone who is pretty and not Asian.”

“Uhm...what kind of job would that be?” he asks carefully and she laughs out loud.

“Oh god, no!” She falls on the couch next to him and leans into him, still laughing hard. “I would never propose something like that.” She grabs his hand and giggles before she takes a deep breath and looks at him. “He looks for models for magazines? People over here find you exotic.”

“Ah, okay. No nudes,” John jokes.

“It wouldn't be much money at first, but I think you could make a name for yourself, if you want.” There is a question under all this, but John can't answer it just now. He doesn't know if he will stay. He doesn't know if he can go back to Gotham, but he isn't sure he can be a model for underwear in Korea either.

“I can meet with this guy, right? I mean, he is a friend of yours?”

“We know each other,” she answers vaguely. And maybe she and that guy had something going on before John came along and grabbed her hand, but John doesn't care, because she is sleeping in his bed now. She is using his shower and stealing his favourite candy right out from under his nose.

“Hey,” he says and tilts her head so he can kiss her. He likes that. He likes kissing her and knowing she doesn't except anything at all. Doesn't think it's weird he doesn't want to pin her down and lick every inch of her body until she's quivering with need and desire.  
The funny thing is, John thought about that, once or twice. He just isn't sure he wants it. Yet.  
But thinking about it might be a good sign. He should tell Andy that in his next letter.

 

**~Five~**  
Ma-ku's friend Yun is nice, and professional to a point that makes John wonder. He stores it away.  
“Ma-ku says you’ve never modelled before?”

It's only a half-question, but John nods anyway. “I'm kinda low on money right now.”

Yun nods. “What are you doing here?”

“Taking a break from life,” John answers, and it is the truth. He hadn't realised it before, hadn't put it in those words, but that's what it is.

Yun cocks his head. Somehow John knows he wants to ask for how long John intends to take a break from his life, but he is too professional in the end to follow through with it.  
“How old are you anyway?” he asks, like he just remembered it would be a pain in the ass if John was a minor.

“Eighteen.”

“At least you don't need a permission slip from your parents.”

“My parents are dead,” John answers. He is still John Blake. He was never Wayne's son. His parents are dead.

Yun doesn't offer any platitudes and John is grateful. “Right, okay. You need to fill out all these forms,” he grabs a stack of them and slides them over to John. “And then we're going to do a photo-shot just to see if the camera loves you.” He smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes.  
John isn't sure if Yun is just that kind of guy, or if he just doesn't like John. He nods.

~+~  
Turns out the camera loves John and a few other people too. Especially those that are working for all the teenage-glamour magazines.  
Yun is not very impressed, but he sees the potential. John doesn't really care. It's relatively easy earned money and it pays the rent. Besides none of this will be seen overseas. Not that John thinks he looks stupid in the photos. He looks good. Kind of ageless, which is strange, but he guesses you can do anything with good lightning and Photoshop.  
He stares at a shot of him in a grey shirt and his hair a mess and thinks: well, looks like the jail-bait I am.

Ma-ku leans over and runs a finger over his face on the page. “You look like a rebel schoolboy in that one.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about,” he answers, grabbing her hand and kissing her knuckles, one after the other. There are cuts on them again. She had been in a fight. Recently.

“Sure you don't. I like them. You look vulnerable in them.”

“I'm not.”

“I know, but I like it nevertheless. I think it's something about how you look at the camera and maybe the curtains in the background. Can you ask where they got them?”

“You want the curtains? That is what you're after? There is a hot piece of jail-bait ass in that picture too.”

She squeezes his shoulder with the hand he isn't holding right now. “Don't think about you like that,” she says softly.

He sighs. “It was a joke.”

“No,” she answers, “it wasn't.”  
He kisses her knuckle again and doesn't answer.

~+~  
“And if I were a stripper?” she asks, playful.

“Well, I do get paid for taking off my clothes. Can't throw the first stone, can I?” John answers.

“One time,” she says.

“Oh, babe, that is only the beginning.” His accent is atrocious and he doesn't even know what kind of accent he is going for.

She laughs. “Don't do that.”

“But it makes you laugh,” he answers and grabs her hand to pull her closer. Her dress whispers against his shirt and John kisses her. It's not a light kiss like most of them are. It's hard and makes her gasp into his mouth, before she pushes him into the couch and straddles his thighs. Her fingers find their way into his hair and her tongue is demanding he plays with it. John feels a bit out of his depths here, but it feels really good. She presses closer and he can feel how turned on she is. To be honest John is too.

“John,” she gasps into the skin of his neck.  
He drags her closer so their erections brush together. She makes a strangled noise. They've never done anything like this before and it's different than with Bruce. John is allowed to touch, to kiss, to run his hand along her thigh and under her dress. Her fingers tighten in his hair, it's nearly painful, he can feel her breath against his skin: hot short gasps that form his name on every other exhale. She lets go of his hair and grabs one of his hands with one of hers, presses it against her wet panties. “Touch me, please?” It sounds desperate and shy at the same time

“Yeah,” John breathes into her mouth, because how could he not?

~+~  
Later when her head is in his lap and he is stroking her hair, she looks up at him: her mouth bitten red and her cheeks flushed. She looks serious. “John?”

“Yes?”

“You liked it, right?” She sounds hesitant.

He leans down to kiss her. “Yes, I liked it.”

She sighs on an exhale. “I was wondering...”

“About what?”

“About you maybe not really being into-” she bites her lip and John watches, waits.

“Being into boys?” he prompts after a too long silence.

“Boys like me,” she answers softly.

“I am into you,” John clarifies. “Not boys like you. Or girls like you. Just you. I like people.”

“Oh,” she says with a smile and brushes his lips with her fingertips. It makes John shiver. John has no idea why this works when he couldn't connect to anyone at his school or at home, except Wayne, but that is all kinds of messed up. The important part it that it does work.

 

**~six~**  
John takes up martial arts again, and Ma-ku trains with him in his living room, with the furniture (not that there is much of that anyway) shoved against the walls.  
The first time she has him on his back in minutes. She laughs down at him and he grabs her neck and drags her down for a kiss. She lets him for a bit before she gets up and holds her hand out. John grabs it, lets her help him up.

“You are good,” she says.

“Right. You had me on my back in seconds.”

“No, I mean it. The thing is you play by the rules. I don't,” she says.

“It's what I've learned.” He shrugs.

“In school?”

“It was a fancy school,” John says.

She sighs, but lets it go. Someday he'll have to tell her something. Even if it's only because he wants Alfred to meet her. He stops in his tracks and thinks about it again. He does want Alfred to meet her. This is a serious thing for John. He should have known, because every single person in his life is a serious thing, a serious relationship.  
“John?”

“I just thought I would like you to meet Alfred.”

“The man who raised you,” she says.

John nods. “Yeah, can I make a picture of us? I mean, I only write post-cards, but maybe a letter would be a good idea. Would that be okay?”

“You want your parent to know about me?” she asks. There is something in her voice. Disbelief, John thinks. Like no one ever wanted her to meet their parents. John is instantly angry and sad at her behalf.

“Yeah. Is that weird?” John had never before a relationship like this with kissing and martial arts and orgasms. What he had with Wayne had been close, but this thing with Ma-ku lacks all the guilt and John likes that.

“I don't know. I mean, no, no, it wouldn't be weird. It isn't weird,” she bites her lip and John waits her out. “Do you want me to wear boy's clothes?”

“I want you to be you. I want you to wear what makes you comfortable,” John says, reaching out to drag her close and she goes willingly. She fits perfectly against his body.

~+~  
John somehow ends up having a live-camera chat with Alfred after that. He tries to call Alfred every month, at least to let him know he is still alive, and when he calls this time Ma-ku is there too. John doesn't even need to think about introducing her.  
She is wearing a tight top and loose yoga-pants, her hair is a messy bun at the back of her head, strands spilling out at the sides already. She doesn't wear make-up, but her lips are shiny from lip-gloss.

“Hi,” she says, waving dorkily into the camera.

“Hello,” Alfred answers with a smile.  
And then there's silence, and John has no idea what to say. He never brought anyone home and this isn't that, exactly, except maybe it is. He wonders if it was that awkward for Wayne too once upon a time.

“You have a nice kitchen,” Ma-ku says.

Alfred turns around to look at it. “Yes, yes it is. John used to spend a lot of time here, baking and drinking tea and stuffing cake into his little mouth.”  
She laughs.

“Alfred!” John says, but he isn't really angry or ashamed. He wants her to know these things about him.

“And he...” Alfred begins and John leans back into the couch and lets her listen and ask questions and doesn't have a freaking care.

When she excuses herself because she has to get ready for her job, John takes the laptop and smiles at Alfred.  
“You look happy,” Alfred says.

“I am happy. I miss you and I miss Andy and Lindsey too,” John replies, biting his lip, “Wayne too, if you should wonder. If he should.”

Alfred nods. “He misses you too, John.”

John huffs out a breath. He doesn't want to hear that, maybe. He isn't sure. Wayne only touches his life here when John is talking to Alfred. But John can't not talk to Alfred.  
“Yeah...”

“I like her, or him?” Alfred looks a bit confused, but not uncomfortable.

“Her,” John answers. “I've send you a picture of us two days ago, should arrive sometime next week.”

“Thank you John.”

“Don't mention it,” John answers and says his goodbyes.

~+~  
Eggert calls during a photo-shot and John has to call back.

“I hear you are an underwear model now?” Eggert says. John can hear the grin in his voice.

“Had to earn my money somehow. You abandoned me in Seoul. A boy has to eat.”

“Right, because you are so poor, man.”

“So, are you coming to visit? I have a small flat over a restaurant. It does have warm water.”

“Why do you think I will only visit?”

“Please, give me some credit. You wanted to be here months ago. And I only hear from you now. I am not an expert on weddings, but I don't think you celebrate them for four months.”

“You don't. Shit got out of hand. I am sure you read about it in the papers.”

“No. I didn't. I try to avoid everything that has to do with Gotham,” John answers honestly.

“Ah, good plan. However, I am free to do as I please for another three glorious months. Did you pick up some Korean?”

“Is this some bad joke?”

“I mean the language, John,” Eggert answers and then stops. John can hear him grin. “You did pick up someone.”

“Her name is Ma-ku, she stays over a lot...”

“Aw, my boy is all grown up.”

Well, John thinks he is on his way to nineteen already, so. Yeah. “Will that be a problem for you?”

“I'm not staying at your place anyway. Seoul has some great hotels and I am not keen on the whole Korean real life experience.”

John nearly rolls his eyes on his way home. He darts out of a bicycle's way and grabs some tea from a shop close by. He likes to walk home whenever he can. “Should I get you from the airport?”

“Can you afford it?”

“The underwear job doesn't pay that bad. I can,” John says smiling.

“Sure. I'll text you the details.”

John stops in the middle of the pavement. “Where are you right now?” He asks with suspicion in his voice.

Eggert laughs. “Waiting for my flight to board.”

“Eggert.”

“See you tomorrow. Bring her with? We'll have an awesome dinner,” he says and hangs up on John.  
 _You're paying_ John texts.  
 _Of course_ Eggert answers.

~+~  
“That is on a very short notice,” Ma-ku says. She is biting her lip again, it's a tell.

“You don't have to come if you don't want to,” John answers.

“I- it's just that,” she crosses her arms in front of her chest and looks at him. “Do you want me there? Meeting with your friend? I know that restaurant. It's expensive John.”

“Eggert isn't a douche. He knows me. We went to school together. His dad is a rich lawyer back home.”

“And where is that exactly?” she asks. “Home?”

He takes a deep breath. “Gotham.”

“Are you in some kind of trouble back home?”

“No. I just don't want to be there.”

She nods. “Okay. So, a nice dress then?”

“All your dresses are nice,” John answers.

She looks at him and smiles. “You like the green one, with the bow.”

“Yeah,” John says. He loves that one and how it feels against his skin when she brushes by him.

“I want to look good-”

“You always look good to me.”

She kisses his cheek. “You are my favourite person.”

~+~  
To Eggert's credit he doesn't treat her differently than he would any other friend of John's. He is charming and witty and tells her stories from when they were in school and then the months in Italy and Germany.

“I bet he never told you that he can speak Italian.”

“No, he didn't,” Ma-ku say and lets Eggert pour her more wine.

“He likes to keep things to himself. That's how he is. Dad thinks you would make a good lawyer,” he says in John's direction.

“No thanks.”

“He's smart enough for it,” Eggert goes on.

“I know,” Ma-ku answers.

~+~  
“Dude,” Eggert says when they're having a smoke on Eggert's balcony some hours after. Ma-ku took a taxi back to her place because she claimed to be tired, but John knows she wanted John to have some time to catch up with Eggert.

John exhales smoke and raises an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“Awesome girl. I would hit that if she didn't have a dick.”

John laughs. “She could have you on your back in five seconds flat.”

“I bet you like that,” Eggert says with a grin.

John nods. He does like it. He likes how she looks so innocent and fragile, but can kick ass with the best of them. “She can take care of herself.”

“Hmm,” Eggert comments. “Andy is going to art-school.”

“Who pays for it?” John didn't know that because he didn't speak with Andy for some time now.

“He has a scholarship,” Eggert answers.

John smiles, exhaling smoke and taking another drag. “I knew it. He is brilliant.”

“Wanna hear about Wayne?” Eggert asks. His tone is carefully neutral.

John thinks about it. He could have found out everything he wanted to know on his own. He is good like that and besides the internet is full of gossip-sites. He shakes his head.  
“He doesn't belong here,” he settles on.

“And you do?” Eggert asks.

“I have not the faintest idea,” John admits.

~+~  
After that first dinner they spend a lot of time together. An unholy trinity in clubs and bars, hotels and small vacation homes all over the country. John doesn't even try to insist on paying his and Ma-ku's share. Eggert waves it away like it's no big deal, and for Eggert it really isn't a big deal. John lets it go.

“I feel like we are a kept couple,” Ma-ku says over drinks.

“Darling, you are,” Eggert answers and she laughs. Her dark eyes shining. She is sprawled all over the big chair in the garden of the house they are staying in right now. She took time off from work or maybe she quit, John doesn't know. John took time off. Two months. Two fucking months and he knows they will be glorious months. Because Eggert doesn't do anything half-way.  
Eggert likes the luxury and the quiet and the hammering beat of a pop-song in his veins. Flirting with girls and sometimes boys, even if the last one never goes anywhere.

“Shouldn't there be more sexual favours involved?” Eggert asks with that horrible accent he adopted for the night just for shit and giggles.

“What would you like then, Mister Eggert?” she says, low. It makes John's stomach flip. Desire rising in his body like a flame. He looks at her, stares really, as she stretches, her dress riding up a bit over her smooth thighs. He wants to kiss those thighs, lick them and bite into that fleshy part on the inside that makes her moan.

Eggert follows the line of her dress and swallows. He takes a sip of his drink. “I think it's late, you two should go to bed.”  
She smiles and John grabs her hand, helping her up.

~+~  
Later when they're in bed, spent and sated: John running his fingertips over her throat, shoulder, arm, whatever part he can reach, he says: “I think you could make him reconsider.”

Her eyes flutter open and she is so freaking beautiful John thinks. “Reconsider what?”

“Boys,” John whispers.

“No, John. He sees the girl in me when he's drunk. Not the boy. And you,” she says, touching his lips, running a finger over them. Still sensitive from all the kissing, John bites back a moan and she smiles because she knows it makes him crazy. “You see me.” And then she snuggles closer and kisses him.

~+~  
“Sorry,” Eggert says after breakfast the next morning. He waves his cigarette and doesn't look at John.

“For what?”

“Because I hit on your girlfriend.”

John smiles, nodding. “It's fine.”

“It's not. I am not-”

“Is this a thing worth a crisis for you?”

“Her? Hell yes. She is worth a crisis for me John. I've never even considered. But last night I did.”

“You were drunk.”

“I was tipsy. Not the same. I am sorry I hit on your girlfriend. I won't do it anymore. She is your girlfriend.” He takes a deep drag, exhales and says: “Are we good or do you want to punch me in my handsome face?”

“We're good. I know she wouldn't. I know you wouldn't.”

“Okay.”

 

**~seven~**  
“So, you told Alfred about her but not Wayne?”

“Me and Wayne aren't speaking. I mean, he isn't speaking to me. I bet he's glad I'm gone,” John says into the phone.

He stayed at the house while Ma-ku and Eggert are out and about spending more of Eggert's money.  
“John,” Andy sighs.

“I left my address with Alfred. I left my number and he has my e-mail. It didn't change since I was twelve.”

“I know,” Andy answers snickering.  
BadassJohn@ seemed like a good idea at the time. Whatever. John still thinks he's badass. “You like her, hmm?”

“Yeah I do.”

“So, what now? Are you not coming back? Eggert says you're an underwear model over there?”

“One time. Only one time. I am mostly clothed in these shots,” John answers a bit exasperated.

“Still, so you are a model and you live with this girl and that is your life now. You are carving a life for yourself out there, John. If you’ve realised it or not. I don't think you want to come back.”

John exhales smoke and looks over the small garden. Maybe he doesn't want to come back. “I am just John here.”

“You were only just John for me too, Blake,” Andy says. “But I get it. You are not Wayne's when you are hers.”

“Maybe,” John allows. He is hers with all his heart, but a part of him wonders what would happen if Wayne would come to get him. Would he go? Would he stay? Maybe it's good there is nothing but radio silence from Wayne right now.

“She doesn't know about Wayne does she?”

“What exactly about him?” John asks.

“That you are his ward. She thinks you’re John Blake, crazy into her, and martial arts, and expensive tea. With friends who don't care for money because they have so much of it. And she doesn't ask questions?”

“I don't ask her any either. We tell each other what we can.”

“And what does it mean, you think, that you can't tell her about Wayne? Can't tell her that you are a heir to Wayne Enterprises?”

“I have no fucking idea, Andy,” John admits. But he doesn't think it means he doesn't trust her.

“At least you're having a healthy sexual relationship,” Andy says.

“Uhm...”

“What does 'uhm' mean, Blake?”

“We do stuff.”

“What kind of stuff?” Andy wants to know. His voice does sound curious, but also gentle.

John looks out at the garden again. “Things we are comfortable with.”

“You or the both of you?” Andy asks.

“I- we. I think we.” But maybe Ma-ku is holding back. The first time it had been her to ask him to touch her. But the first kiss had been him.

“Do you guys talk about this?”

They don't. They talk about a lot of stuff, but not about sex. It happens when it happens and it's mostly her rocking into him or him kissing her senseless while he gets her off. Her hand around his dick, or both their cocks and she's never asked for more and he never offered.  
“No, we don't.”

“Maybe you should.”

“Yeah. Maybe. Say hi to Lindsey for me?”

“Are you hanging up on me, John?”

“That phone call costs me a fortune and I am only a poorly paid underwear model Andy.”

Andy laughs. “Okay, but as soon as you have a decent internet connection-”

“I know a face to face chat will be in order.”

“Yeah, we should have a double date. You and Ma-ku and me and Lindsey.”

“I would like that, but sadly I am still with Eggert.”

“Bring him along. I bet Eggert can find a nice lady everywhere he's going.”  
Thing is: Eggert can.

~+~  
“Are you satisfied?” John asks and it sounds super awkward.

“I, what?” she says, distracted.

“I mean with us. With the sex we're having?”

She puts her brush away and turns to look at him. ”Where did that come from John? I have great orgasms with you.”

“Yes, I know, but we've been together for months now,” John says.

“Seven months John.”

“Yes, seven months, and I. We took it slow because I wanted to and you said you didn't care as long as we were together and it took weeks for our first kiss and months for me to touch you and you had to _ask_ for it and I was wondering. Is it enough? What we do?”

She gets up and kneels down in front of him. “Do you feel like it's enough?”

“This is not about me!”

She takes a deep breath. “I know you are not comfortable with sharing, well, you. Your body. You have so many issues John, but people do have issues, it's part of what makes them people, you know? And you are an amazing person, so not having your dick in my ass or the other way around is no big deal for me, because you make love to me when you touch my body and I like that.”

She looks sincere and he has no reason to doubt her. He cups her face gently with his hands and leans forward to kiss her. She sighs into his mouth.  
“But do you want it? Do you want my dick inside of you?” he asks, softly, kissing the corner of her lips and her cheek. Her breath hitches. It's as good as if she would've screamed a yes from the rooftop.

“We could start slow,” she says, sensing his indecision.

“With fingers?” John whispers. It's not like he is clueless about sex. He knows it in and out in theory; the thing is he has issues.

“With fingers,” she whispers back.

~+~  
“Two months of driving around Korea aren't enough,” Eggert says, taking a sip of his wine.  
They have only three days left until John has to be back in Seoul, because his vacation will be over and Ma-ku phoned a few people and has a job-interview lined up for Friday.  
She stretches in her chair and takes a bite of her cake. John loves to watch her eat. And she will taste like chocolate and cinnamon later when he kisses her.

“You have still two weeks left before you have to go home,” she says.

“Yeah, and it will be so boring, but I will write you every day.”

“Us? Or only me?” she teases.

“Only you, darling. Only you. I will miss your company and excellent sense in finding the greatest bars.”  
She laughs again. Winking at him. John grabs her hand and squeezes it once.

“You could come and live at my place for that time, you know?” he offers.

“You have like 6 square metres over a restaurant.”

“Great Kimchi, though,” John says.

Eggert rolls his eyes. “Fine, I'll try it out. Not saying I'm going to stay on your couch. I've seen that thing and your lovely lady-friend will be sleeping over again, won't she?”

“Uhm...yeah.”

“The walls are thin here, dude. I know you guys were having a good time yesterday. During the day,” Eggert laughs again.

Ma-ku blushes. “We thought you were out.”

“I thought you were talking about art or whatever not fucking each other's brains out.”

“Still having our brains,” John throws in.

“You are doing something wrong then,” Eggert says.

“Did it sound to you like we were doing something wrong?” Ma-ku asks in her low voice that makes John want to make her talk to him that way for hours while he balances on the edge.

Eggert swallows. “Not, really. No.”

She leans back into her chair and continues eating her cake. Eggert gives him a look. John shrugs. He had told Eggert that she could take care of herself.  
“She was only teasing,” John says with a grin.

“Yeah, I know,” Eggert grins back.

~+~  
Eggert stays one night on the sofa. The day they come back and end up at John's place and are too tired and drunk to get anything done.  
They're drinking coffee at the small kitchen-table when Ma-ku wakes up and stumbles into the kitchen. She kisses John's cheek like she always does on her way to the bathroom and Eggert watches her disappear inside. He waits until he can hear the shower before he speaks.

“So, you are playing house here? With her?”

John gives him a look. But Eggert isn't being a dick about it. It's an observation. “I'm not playing.”

“So, do you love her?”

John is taken by surprise. He has no idea. But they are practically living together and he is sleeping with her. That means he trusts her, he is talking with her about sex and things, so that means something. All of his relationships are meaningful in a way. So maybe. He does. “I think, I do.”

Eggert looks at him hard. “You're not coming back, are you?”

John seriously doesn't think so. “They want to give me a part in a soap. I would be The American.”

“Which means you would get more money and people would know your name and you would be putting down roots here. In freaking Korea.”

John nods. It seems that way. “Yeah.”

“You didn't tell her yet.”

“No.”

“You didn't tell Andy and Lindsey either – or Alfred.”

“No.”

“Means you're still on the fence about the soap job.”

“Yeah.” But he isn't, really. The last two months with Ma-ku constantly at his side, this is what he wants.

“I'll visit every summer with wife and kids.”

John smiles at him. “Bring Andy.”

“You only want me for my money,” Eggert sighs.  
John laughs.


	5. 'light'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **IMPORTANT:**  
>  This is a part 5, not the part 5. I wrote this one on a weekend because the first part 5 was depressing the hell out of me. I still finished that 'dark' ending (needs to be beta read). This is the 'light' one. I consider them both equal. When all is said and done you will be able to choose the one that is closer to your head-canon.  
> As a result of this there will be some of the Extras that will only work with the dark or light version, some will work with both. I will make clear in the notes in which verse they belong.  
> I can't thank mockingj91 enough for sticking with me and this story. <3  
> I want to thank all of you who let me know they like this story too and especially Icalynn for letting me bitch and moan and send snippets and talk ideas. <3

PART V. (age 19-22)  


 **~One~**  
John gets an e-mail from Andy with the subject line 'he's back' and only a link. He doesn't need to click the link to know who is back, but he does it anyway.  
It's a chase; the police, some people who are criminals and Batman. On a bike. John watches it three times and then he calls Alfred.

~+~  
“What the hell is he thinking?” John demands. 

“Master John, language.” 

“Not in the mood, Alfred. And this call costs me a fortune. That is how much I need to know if he is back, or if he was just taking out the bike for a ride.” 

“What do you think John?” 

“What is going on?” 

“We have a situation here.” 

“How bad is it?” John wants to know.

“Bad,” Alfred admits.  
John bites his lip. He knew he would go back one day, but he didn't think it would be like this... Fuck it all to hell. He hates Gotham. Hates it. “John?” Alfred asks. 

“I'm coming home.” 

“Your room is ready. Give me the details so I can pick you up.” 

“I won't come alone,” John says. He has no idea how he's going to convince Ma-ku toleave her life and her country and just go back to Gotham with him, but he is sure he can't go without her. 

“Your room is ready and I can prepare a room for Miss Ma-ku,” Alfred says smoothly. 

“What will Wayne say about that?” 

“This is your home, John. You have any and all right to come back and live here. With a friend.”

“Thank you Alfred.” 

“You are welcome.”  
John ends the call and then rings Andy and Lindsey to make sure he could crash at their place if things should go wrong with Wayne. They have a spare room, John knows that. 

And after he's done that he calls Eggert. 

“So, you're coming home then?” Eggert says. “Figured it would be fucking Batman who would be your signal.”

“You need a secretary right?” 

“Yeah?” Eggert says cautiously. 

“When I come I am coming with Ma-ku. She'll need a job, so she will be able to stay in Gotham.” 

“Yes, I know. You know I love her and she does make a hell of a coffee. Sure, mailing you the papers in a few hours.” 

“Thank you.” 

“What else are friends in high places for?” Eggert jokes. 

John smiles. “I'll make it up to you.” 

“No need. I am thrilled to have your company again,” Eggert answers and hangs up on John before John can say anything else.  
Right. That's that. The only thing to do is to ask Ma-ku now. To convince her to come with him. 

~+~  
“We need to talk,” John says and winces. That was not smooth at all. Fuck.

“Okay? Is this about the soap job?”  
John didn't even think about the soap job. Fuck he has to call his agent and tell him he is quitting and moving back to America. 

“Yes and no.”

“John,” she says, flopping down on the couch and taking off her shoes. “It was a long fucking day.” 

“I need to go back to Gotham.” 

“Okay? When?” 

“As soon as I can. Yesterday would be really fucking great.” 

“Is something wrong?” 

“Yes, there is. It's complicated, but Wayne-” he takes a deep breath. 

“Slow down. You don't make any sense,” she says gently, but she is beginning to freak out inside, John can see it. 

“There are things I need to tell you.” 

“John, sit down and just tell me then.” 

“I am Wayne's ward.” 

“I don't understand,” she says confused. 

“I am the heir to Wayne Enterprises.”

“What? I thought Alfred was the one who raised you.”

“He was. But Alfred is the butler. He is the one who took care of Wayne when his parents were murdered, and he is the one who raised me when Wayne adopted me.” 

“You are not joking, are you?” 

“I am not, Ma-ku. I am so sorry. And now things in Gotham are messed up, and Wayne is doing a lot of stupid shit, and I just talked to Alfred and Andy and Eggert-”

“You don't mean to visit,” she cuts in. “You want to leave here for good. You want to break up?” her voice is just a whisper. 

“What? NO! I want you to come with me. I want you to leave your life and your friends and country behind and come with me to Gotham. And I know it's selfish and-”  
She surges forward and kisses him. Hard and demanding and he kisses her back just as desperately. “Is that a yes?” he asks as they come up for air. 

“You are a handsome billionaire. I would be stupid not to-”

“I have nothing. He cut me loose as I left. We had a disagreement-”

“Oh,” she says, grabbing his face in her strong hands and looking at him hard. “You were in love with him.” 

“I-”

“And suddenly everything makes sense, John,” she is smiling, but sadly. 

“I love you,” he says helplessly. 

“I know.” 

~+~  
They fuck for the first time ever on the sofa in the living room. She has two fingers inside him and he is biting his palm to keep the moans in and she doesn't tell him not to. Usually it's John's fingers inside her, but this is really good, John thinks and then she kisses his neck and bites gently at his collarbone as she pushes another finger inside and he grabs at her, urging her on and wanting her inside him and around him and be inside her too. To crawl inside her ribcage and stay there, close to her heart. 

“John,” she says, her voice breathy, and he is frantic with the need building inside him.

“Yes, yes and yes,” John answers. 

She bites her lip, her fingers slipping out and he clutches at her. “We need condoms.” 

John doesn't even know if they have condoms. “Do we-?”

“Yes, bathroom. I'll be right back. Please don't change your mind,” she whispers and kisses him. He knows it's meant as a joke, but she is serious too. John won't. He won't and he kisses her and then lets her go. 

“Hurry up.” 

She does. She is back in just a few moments and on him again. John took of his socks while she was in the bathroom and is struggling with his shirt now and her panties are gone too. He can feel her hot and wet against him. Her yellow summer dress is dragging against his dick when she moves. 

“John, are you sure?” She looks at him, her lips red and swollen from kissing, her hair a mess from John's fingers and she is beautiful and hard for him, and he has no idea what he had been waiting for.

“Yes.” 

~+~  
“So, I hope this wasn't a farewell fuck,” John says. 

Ma-ku punches him in the arm hard. “We were making love, you pig.”

He laughs. “Yes,” he says, kissing her temple. “Yes we were.”

“And it wasn't. I want to go with you to Gotham. I have no idea what the hell I will do there and if they let me stay-”

“I talked to Eggert, he‘s offering you a job.”

“A job?” she asks. 

“He needs a secretary.” 

“I do make a mean cup of coffee,” she says. 

“You do.”

“So, where will we live?” She asks, turning and getting up so she can straddle him. He grabs her hips and thinks that he would love to fuck her like this. Soon. 

“At the manor or if you should be uncomfortable there, Andy and Lindsey have a spare room. Until we can afford something on our own.” 

“What will you do there?” 

“I have no idea...”

“So, you will be a kept man until you figure it out, hmm?” She teases. 

“Yes? Will that be okay?” John asks. Until now they both had money. John still has money left. His last job paid pretty well and she works too, but it's their money and they were saving it up, so…  
“Yes. John. Yes.” 

 

 **~Two~**  
Alfred is waiting for them at the airport. John is nervous, he knows he really shouldn't be, but here are his two worlds colliding.  
He isn't surprised that Wayne isn't there to welcome him home. Wayne sure as hell has better things to do in that batcave of his. Maybe now John can finally see the cowl up close and touch it. After all he never found out where Batman, where Wayne, had hid it.

“John,” Alfred says, and John hugs him. 

“Alfred,” he mumbles into his neck. He's missed Alfred, and he missed the smell, and somehow he missed Gotham a bit too. 

“Welcome home.” 

“It's good to be home,” John says and he means it. He lets go of Alfred and grabs Ma-ku's hand who was standing a bit unsure a few feet away. “You know Ma-ku.” 

“Miss Ma-ku,” Alfred says with a smile, his hand grabbing hers. 

“Alfred. It's a pleasure to finally meet you in person.” 

“Likewise. So let's get your luggage and then go home. I made you a little something to eat.” 

“Thank you.” 

“You are so very welcome, John.” 

~+~  
Wayne is standing in the hall when they enter. 

“Did you get me something?” he asks. 

It takes John only a heartbeat to remember that conversation. “Like what?” 

“Like a sword?” Wayne asks. 

“You don't even like swords,” John says. “And I don't have a private jet either, but I got you Korean candy.” and John did too. 

“Really?” Wayne asks, he sounds surprised and amused. 

“You were always stealing mine when I was a kid,” John answers shrugging. 

“Yes, I was,” Wayne replies with a smile and then he looks to Ma-ku. “And you must be John's girlfriend.” He is perfectly nice, but John is still tense as hell all of a sudden. In those short moments it was like before. Just the two of them in their own world, but this isn't their world and it never was, and now John has let someone else into his. 

“Ma-ku, Mister Wayne,” Ma-ku says extending her hand. “A pleasure.” 

“It is,” Wayne answers, taking her hand and shaking it gently. “How was the flight?” 

She shrugs, letting go of his hand. “It was okay. All in all. Tiring.” 

“Alfred made sandwiches and tea. Your favourite. If it's still your favourite?” Wayne asks looking at John and John only. 

John nods. “Rose tea is still my favourite kind. In the kitchen?” 

“Yes, it seemed -”

“It was, it is,” John cuts in. 

Wayne smiles. 

~+~  
“He's missed you,” Ma-ku says later when they're in John's room. She is looking around. 

“Yeah...” 

“I mean it John. You can see it in his eyes. He really missed you.” She traces the empty place on the wall where the picture of Batman used to be when John had been living here. He took it with him. Has it still. It had a place in a frame on his nightstand back in Korea.

“He made me leave. He always knew where I was living. It's really-”

“And you came back,” she cuts in. “Why? When you said it was a family emergency I thought, well, that something had happened to Alfred, or later as you explained, to Wayne. But he seems fine to me.” 

“That's because you don't know him,” John answers. He has no idea how to tell her all the things he can't tell her. 

“There are things you're not telling me,” she says. 

“Yeah. I don't know how. I don't know...they aren't really my secrets to tell, you know? But I know them, and I know that shit is about to hit the fan.” 

“Are we in danger here?” she asks looking at him. Straight into his eyes. 

“Yes, we probably are. We should have stayed where we were, and lived our lives, and not come back here just because-” he bites his lip. 

“But this seems, this _is_ important to you. You aren't the type to rush into something when it isn't an emergency, or if you think it isn't one.” 

“Yeah,” he admits, closing his eyes. He lets himself fall onto the bed. “It was selfish of me to bring you here, even if I knew that we probably will end up in some kind of danger.” 

“Sometimes it's okay to be selfish John. If Wayne knew that, you wouldn't be with me.”  
He can feel her sit down next to him and grabs her hand blindly. She leans down to kiss his lips softly. “I'm glad he's an idiot, John,” she whispers and he laughs against her lips. 

~+~  
Breakfast the next day is a silent affair. John is still messed up from the trip, Wayne is nowhere to be seen, and Ma-ku is still sleeping upstairs in their bed.  
It's only Alfred and John.  
John inhales his rose tea and then grabs a roll. 

“So, he is back. And you said we have a situation-”

“John-”

“Yeah, no. I know you know that I know what he is doing in his free time,” John cuts in. “And I am not a kid anymore. I can handle it. Besides I never believed the shit they were saying about him.” 

Alfred smiles. “Commissioner Gordon had been shot and there seems to be something going on in the sewers.” 

“And the police?” John asks. 

“Not much help from there. The commissioner is out and no one believes he saw what he claims he saw.” 

“What did he see?” John wants to know. 

“A big man and an army.” Alfred looks worried. 

“Do we have a name?” John asks. 

“There is no we,” Wayne says from the door. 

Silent like a freaking cat, John thinks. Ninjas. “You don't want me to help you catch the bad guys?” 

“I have no idea what you're talking about,” Wayne says. 

John gives him a look. “Look. I know.” 

“You know what?” 

“That you like to dress up and beat up the bad guys.” 

“John-” 

“When I saw you, I knew who you were,” John cuts in. “The one time when you came to visit the orphanage? With the girls on your arm?”

“I remember. I didn't see you.” 

“I was a scrawny ten year old and you weren't looking for anything or anyone back then. Besides I liked to stay in the shadows and watch people. We made stories up about you, you know? All the kids. You were our hero, but I saw you, and I knew who you really were. Who you really are.” 

“And you wanted to be me.” 

“I wanted to be Batman, but I don't want that anymore. I am okay with who I am. And I am back because Batman is, Wayne. Let me help you.” 

“John, I really appreciate your enthusiasm but no.” 

John sighs, frustrated. Well if he’s the prophet and all that stuff, then, Wayne is the freaking mountain, John thinks. But John has already a plan. 

“Master Bruce, John, maybe we can talk about it later?” Alfred says. John listens, yeah, Ma-ku is up. He smiles. 

“Yeah,” he looks at Wayne. “In the library? You didn't put up a wall, did you?” 

Wayne gives him a look like he wants to ask how John knew he was thinking about it, and John smiles. “No I didn't.” 

~+~  
John enlists into the academy the same day. He doesn't tell Wayne or Alfred, but he does tell Ma-ku. She isn't thrilled, but it's not like she can tell him no. 

“You could be a lawyer,” she says that evening before dinner. 

“Rachel was a lawyer,” John answers. 

“Who?” 

“The woman Wayne loved. She was killed by the Joker a few years ago and she had been a lawyer. I don't want to be-” 

She grabs his hand. “John, it's like I don't know you.” 

He guesses it's true. “I want to tell you everything. It just didn't seem important. Not any of this, not when we were living in Korea.” 

“But it starts to take up room in our lives now,” she kisses his temple and he leans into her. 

It fucking does.  
“I will tell you what I can.” 

“John, I am not pressuring you into anything. There is a lot of shit you don't know about me too. And it didn't matter and it probably never will matter.” 

“I know.” 

“I want to know these things so I can understand you better. So I can help you if you need help. So I can be there for you,” she whispers.  
He sits up and pushes her onto the bed. She smiles up at him. “Do you want to have your wicked way with me now, John?” 

“I never had sex with anyone in this room, you know?” he answers. 

“Shame. This bed is so comfortable,” she says, stretching so her dress rides up and he leans down to kiss her. 

~+~  
They are late for dinner, and he knows he looks way too smug, and Ma-ku still has that post orgasm glow that he loves so much. But at least they have showered before coming down.  
Alfred hides a smile, but Wayne stares for a second like he remembers before his face smooths out into a friendly but neutral mask.  
Well, John thinks, nothing to do about it now. 

~+~  
The library is still the room to talk about the really tough decisions in life. 

“You did what?” Wayne asks. He is so close to yelling, John can tell. Still after all these years he can tell when Wayne is about to lose it. 

“I enlisted. I want to be a cop.” 

“Are you-?” he takes a deep breath. “You could get a job at Wayne Enterprises. With Fox. I am sure you would like that.” 

“I don't want that. What I want is to help people. Like you help people-”

“And getting close to Gordon has nothing to do with your decision?” Wayne cuts in. 

Well, busted. “We need the intel.” 

“There is no we, John. These aren't the wacky adventures of Batman and his sidekick wonder boy.” 

John snorts. “Wonder boy?” 

Wayne smiles. “Come up with something better then.” 

“I don't need to, because I am not going to wear a cowl,” John says. 

“No, you want to wear an uniform.” 

John shrugs. “It's done, Wayne. I am going to be a cop. If you like it or not.” 

“I don't like it.”

“Want me to move out?” John asks, and there is an edge in his voice he didn't intend to show. Fuck. 

“No. John. I want you here. I’ve always wanted you here. I just think it's not a good time to become a cop in this city.” 

“There is never a good time to be a cop in a city like Gotham, Wayne,” John answers. 

“Yeah, but your timing is truly the worst.” 

“It will be fine,” John answers and he believes it too. “Haven't you heard? The Batman is back.”  
Wayne laughs.  
John is self-aware enough to admit that he missed Wayne's laugh. 

 

 **~Three~**  
“So, you're a cop now?” Andy asks. 

“In the making. Wayne says my timing is the worst thing ever.” 

“At least he didn't disown you,” Andy answers. 

“Yet,” John says. 

“So how is it?” 

“A lot of running, and training, and solving non-existent cases.” 

“And why are you looking at the sewer maps?” Andy wants to know, leaning back against the chair. The small café they're at is busy at this time of the day, but John isn't planning to invade France, so he thinks it'll be okay to tell Andy here, and not be all secretive about this shit. 

“I think something is going on there. I spoke to Gordon, he likes me by the way, and he told me all about some underground army doing stuff in the sewers.” 

Andy raises and eyebrow. John can't blame him. “Okay? And why is no one else on that case?” 

“Because they think it's all bullshit. Gordon hit his head and was hallucinating or whatever-”

“But?” 

“I talked to some of the kids at the orphanage.” 

“I heard about Mark's brother,” Andy says.

John nods. “Jimmy. Yeah, fuck. Something is going on, but people don't care because orphanage kids are always trouble anyway.” 

“That's such bullshit,” Andy says. 

“Yeah, it is, but what can you do?” That is one reason why John wants to be a cop. He is not trouble and he wants these kids to know that stuff can turn out alright, and that there is someone who cares about them. 

“You are clearly doing something,” Andy says. “Need any help?” 

“I have miles and miles and miles of sewers and a flash-light,” John answers with a grin. 

“We need more people.” 

“If this is true and I think it is, there is an army down there, Andy.” 

“I know.” 

~+~  
“I am not amused, John,” Ma-ku says. She throws the maps at his chest. 

He sighs. Well, fuck that could've have gone over a bit better. “I am not going alone.” 

“You sure as hell are not. You know, I am with Wayne on this one. It's stupid and dangerous.” 

“There are kids down there.” 

“Let the police handle it.” 

“I am the police, Ma-ku,” he answers. 

She sighs, sitting down on a chair in the dining room. “Not yet.” 

“They will hardly throw me out. I am just that good.” 

She smiles. “I know you are. I am just worried.” 

“I would love to tell you, don't be, but I know better,” John answers. She grabs his hand and squeezes. “I will be careful.” 

“Don't go down there, John.” 

He sighs. “Okay. I won't.” 

~+~  
“Lindsey called me a stupid fuck and she is out to get you,” Andy says. 

John shifts the phone to pour some tea. “Should I be worried about my balls?” 

Andy laughs. “Yeah, you should.” 

“I promised Ma-ku I won't go down there. I mean she is right. We are two people with miles and miles and miles of sewers and god only knows what is down there and if we would ever find it,” John admits. 

“I know. It did sound like an awfully big adventure,” Andy sighs. 

“Hmm...”

“I hear Wayne is being social again?” Andy asks. 

John would love to hang up know, but he knows Andy would only call back or just drive over. “Yeah, heard that too. He is obsessed with this woman.” 

“In a good way?” Andy wants to know. 

How the hell should I know, John thinks. “Alfred is glad he is out and about, so I guess I should too and I am not fourteen anymore. I can handle myself.” 

“You could handle yourself with fourteen too, John. And not all women are like Bambi.” 

“I know. I think he isn't even interested in her that way. There is just something about her that he wants to crack,” John replies. He really does think Wayne doesn't want to date that Kyle woman, but he still hasn’t found the cave and Alfred isn't telling him shit. John is sure it's somewhere in the old tunnels, but he has no idea how to get down there. There is no hidden entrance in the basement. It's just so frustrating. 

“Best luck to him then... So,” he begins. 

“Yeah?” 

“I got my first exhibition,” Andy says. 

“That's great! Tell me where and when, and I will be there.” 

“It's a travelling thing. I mean it will be shown in Gotham, Metropolis, Washington and maybe even overseas when there is enough interest.” 

“Does that mean you will be travelling with it too?” John asks. 

“Yeah, me and Lindsey. I would ask if you and Ma-ku want to come, but you are still in training and I bet she won't leave your side now that she knows you wanted to crawl around in the sewers to look for an underground army.” 

“Put like that, this sounds like a really fucking stupid plan,” John admits and wonders what the hell he had been thinking? Was he so desperate to impress Wayne? And if yes, then why? He doesn't have to prove shit to anyone. 

“I know. Sometimes it's good to have someone to set your head straight.” Andy laughs. 

John can only agree. “I will come to your Gotham exhibition. Ma-ku and me.” 

“I'm looking forward to it. Sending you the details as soon as I hang up on you.” 

“Thanks Andy.”

“John?” 

“Yeah,” John says. 

“Ask Wayne and Alfred if they want to come to.” 

“Sure thing.” 

~+~  
Ma-ku looks stunning when she comes down the stairs. She is wearing the green dress with the bow John loves so much and that she always says was really cheap. John is staring and he knows it. 

“You look lovely Miss Ma-ku,” Alfred says. 

She blushes. It's adorable. “Thank you Alfred.” 

“You do look stunning. I mean. I love this dress and you know it, but somehow...” he doesn't even know why she looks so radiant tonight. 

“It's the pearls,” she says, touching a necklace carefully with her fingers. 

John follows her hand. He's seen that necklace before, but he can't remember where. “Is it new? I can't remember-”

“It was my mother's,” Wayne says from the left. John turns to look at him. Wayne always looked good in a suit. This evening is no exception. The formal dress-code was a bit of a surprise for John, but he can deal. And at least he isn't the only one who has to wear a suit. 

“Oh, that's where I've seen it,” John says. In a photograph of Wayne's parents. 

“Yes,” Wayne answers and turns to Ma-ku. “They look lovely on you.” 

“Thank you Mister Wayne,” she answers with a soft smile.  
John wants to kiss her, but he reaches out for her hand instead. 

“No bow-tie, John?” Alfred asks. 

“I don't think I can rock that,” John answers, running a hand over his skinny black tie. 

“I like it,” Ma-ku says, grabbing it and twisting it around her fingers playfully to pull him closer. 

“I see,” Alfred smiles. 

~+~  
Lindsey whisks Ma-ku away to meet all of her friends the second John looks the other way. He'll have to talk about stealing his girlfriend with her later. 

“I just hope she doesn't try to propose a threesome to her...” John jokes and Andy laughs. 

“She would you know. She totally would. She adores Ma-ku.” 

“I adore her too,” John replies. 

“I know...” Andy says, and then he's gently grabbed by the elbow so he can meet this one important person. The fifth in the last thirty minutes. But it's okay, he and Andy will have time to catch up on this crazy and wonderful evening later. Lindsey already threatened them with bodily harm if they should fail to show up at their place later.  
He grabs a glass of champagne (he is still not old enough to drink it, but still no one asks) and walks around to look at all the awesome artwork. 

~+~  
He finds Wayne some twenty minutes later in a corner in front of a small pencil drawing. He is alone.  
He stops and looks at the drawing too. Too aware of Wayne's body heat and smell. 

“I remember that,” John says. Andy drew that one the summer before John left. It shows John from behind, his face only in profile and half hidden by his hair and shoulder. They had been swimming in the back-garden pool that no one ever uses. 

“I like it,” Wayne says, he reaches out and then pulls his hand back and doesn't touch. It is an exhibition after all. 

“You should maybe get it then,” Ma-ku says softly, slipping her hand into John's. John squeezes, watching Wayne's profile. 

Wayne smiles. “Maybe I should.” 

~+~  
“You are good for him,” Ma-ku says, brushing her hair. 

“What?” 

“Wayne,” she answers, she never uses Mister when Wayne isn't around. He likes that about her. 

“I guess?” 

“He's less gloomy when you are around.” 

“He is less gloomy when you are around. He was dancing with you and smiling.” 

“I stepped on his toe,” she answers sheepishly. “He found it charming.” 

“I am fucking sure he did,” John says, kissing her bare shoulder. The dress is gone, the hair is down and the make-up cleaned away and it's only her in her underwear. Open and sure of herself. 

“Are you jealous?” 

“Hell no, I know you.”

“And you know him,” she says. 

“Yeah.” 

~+~  
It's true John thinks, Wayne is less gloomy around him and around her. They are an item more or less, and when John is at the academy or talking to Gordon because they bonded over the broken bat-signal one evening, she is there to keep Wayne company.  
She is really good at chess too. She goes for things that she thinks are worth it. 

When they come down for breakfast Wayne is sometimes there, and smiles at them before he catches himself and looks away from her face, or legs or hands. John notices. He notices that she blushes around Wayne too like she used to do when they were at the beginning of their relationship. He notices a lot of things, not only about them, but about himself too. John wasn't lying, he isn't jealous. He is curious. 

“You are falling for him,” Ma-ku says one night. Her hair is caressing his chest and her breath is warm against his cheek. 

“You are falling for him,” John answers with a smile and she smiles back. 

 

 **~Four~**  
“Does that mean you are broke now?” John asks. 

“For the time being, yes.” 

“What about the house?” Ma-ku throws in. 

“They are letting me keep the house. For now. Mister Fox is sure we can prove that the whole thing was rigged, but it will take time. I am penniless,” Wayne says, sitting down heavily on the couch. 

“We aren't,” Ma-ku says. 

“What?” 

“We aren't. We have some money. You have the house, the rest will be fine. We won't starve,” John says. 

“You don't have to pay my salary for the next few months,” Alfred says. 

Wayne smiles. “Thank you Alfred.” 

“You can pay me back when you have your money back,” Alfred answers. 

John gives him a look. Alfred is the best person John knows, except for Ma-ku maybe or Andy or Lindsey, or Eggert who is on the case with his dad, the badass lawyer. And they do it pro bono. John is very fucking lucky to know these people, he realises. 

~+~  
Later that evening while Ma-ku and Lindsey are out clubbing with Eggert, spending no doubt all of Eggert's money, John sits down with Wayne in the library. 

“So, she stole your fingerprints and sold them to Daggertt and you didn't have her sorry ass arrested?” John asks. 

“I find her fascinating. I don't think she belongs behind bars.” 

John looks at him long and hard. “Do you have a crush on this woman?” 

“I don't have crushes anymore, John. I am too old for that.” 

“So what? You were bored and needed someone new to save? Maybe she doesn't need any saving.” 

“She doesn't. She stole my fingerprints and sold them to Daggett and while she was at it she stole the pearls too.” 

John closes his eyes. What the hell is Wayne thinking. “Do you love to make our lives hard?” 

“John, this is something I need to do. It's a calling, don't you under-”

“I do understand why you are Batman, why you do what you do. I don't get why you don't let anyone help you doing it.” 

“I let Alfred help me.” 

“Alfred is getting too old for this shit. Hell, even Gordon is getting too old for this shit.” 

“So what? Are you offering to step up to that plate?” 

“So Ma-ku can murder me in my sleep?” John asks. 

“She seems like that kind of woman. Had me on my back in ten minutes...Maybe I'm getting too old for this shit too,” Wayne answers. 

John wonders if he means being Batman or having crushes on thieves or falling in love with someone else's girl. Not that John can blame Wayne. He also wonders if Wayne is even aware he is falling for Ma-ku and is only distracting himself by pursuing Selina Kyle.  
“You aren't. She has me on my back in three,” John admits and Wayne laughs. 

~+~  
“You were sparing with Wayne,” John says the next day at breakfast. 

“And I have the bruises to show. He is a tough son of a -” Alfred gives her a look and she bites her lip, but she is smiling. “He is pretty good in form. But I think something is wrong with his knee.” 

“Heli-skiing.” John and Alfred answer in unison. 

She gives them a look. “Heli-skiing?” 

“It's a thing he enjoys. Rich people,” John shrugs. 

She kicks him under the table. “Maybe he should see a doctor.”

“Doctor said he could not recommend that I go Heli-skiing again,” Wayne says from the door. 

“Were you trained by ninjas? Jesus,” she says. 

“He’s never admitted to it, but I for my part am pretty freaking sure he was,” John throws in. “He did spend seven years on a soul-searching quest in Tibet or wherever.” 

“Did you find your soul Mister Wayne?” She asks, and she sounds sincere as she pours Wayne tea. He sits down close to her. 

“I found a purpose,” Wayne answers, taking the offered mug. John pushes the plate with the cinnamon-rolls closer to him. Wayne nods a thanks. 

“That is not the same,” she says. 

~+~  
John marks his page with a finger when he hears the board outside the library squeak. No one ever cared about fixing it. John knows to not step on it, so does Wayne when he doesn't want to be heard.  
John looks up. It is Wayne. 

“I thought it was Ma-ku.” 

“I wanted you to know I was here,” Wayne answers and steps inside the room. He sits down in the other chair. It's nearly as it was all those years ago, but John is not a child anymore. Neither in mind, nor in appearances. 

“Okay.” 

“I am going to meet with Miss Kyle. I think she might know where exactly Bane and his army are in the sewers. We can't wait for the police to finally get a clue.” 

“You want to trust the woman who sold your fingerprints?” John asks in disbelief. 

“Do I have another option?” 

“Yes, you do. To wait for Gordon to figure it out and make a plan. You know he will. He is a good man.” 

“He is alone.” 

“You are alone,” John says. 

Wayne smiles. “I have you.” 

“I can't do shit to prevent Bane from killing you, Wayne.” 

“It won't happen.” 

“He was cast out by the League of Shadows. That should tell you something,” John answers angrily. He is worried about Wayne. Bane is strong. He is trained. He has followers and an agenda. He has plans and money to back them up. He is a better, evil version of the Batman. Can't Wayne see that? 

“Were you talking to Alfred again?” 

“For god's sake, Bruce!” 

Wayne stops mocking and looks at him. And John realises what he just said. He only ever called Wayne Bruce once. When he was desperate and ready to beg. He is desperate and ready to beg now too.  
“John-”

“I can't lose you. Don't you get it? I can't.” 

“You have Ma-ku now.” 

“What does that have to do with anything? She is not you. She is not a replacement for you. She never was, can't be. She is her own person and I love her. She is not you.” 

“I-” Wayne stops and John reaches out, grabs him by his shirt and drags him close. Wayne lets him. 

John can feel Wayne's breath on his lips. “I can't lose you,” he whispers and then he leans in and kisses Wayne and Wayne kisses back. 

John knows it doesn't mean Wayne won't do something crazy. It just means that Wayne loves him too. Which would be enough if this was a Disney movie, but it's not and love usually isn't enough to make things work.  
“John,” Wayne says when they come up for air again. 

“If I tell you to not feel guilty about it, will you listen to me?” John cuts in. 

“Probably not,” Wayne admits. 

“It's okay, you know? She likes you too.” 

“What are you talking about? She is with you, you are with her. I had my chance and blew it – I had reasons, don't even start,” he warns. 

John won't. It's not like they can change that anyway. “I'm saying that relationships don't have to be about two people loving each other very much, Wayne.” 

“What happened to Bruce?” Wayne asks. 

“You have to earn that,” John answers with a smile. 

Wayne smiles back. “I need to think about this. I need to talk to her. I need-”

“To go and save the world and try not to get killed in the process?” John cuts in. He knows he can't keep Wayne here. Can't keep Batman here. Gotham needs Batman and Batman will go. John really hates Gotham. 

“Yes,” Wayne says and kisses him again.  
The best John can hope for it to give Wayne a reason to come back. 

 

 **~Five~**  
John is really fucking glad when Gordon tells them to go down into the sewers and look for Bane. Finally. He isn't allowed to go, like the rest of the rookies. They all have to wait it out upside. John is frustrated with that decision, but he doesn't want to raise hell and lose Gordon's goodwill. So he keeps silent and waits for news.  
Gordon, the perspective bastard that he is, senses his restlessness and sends him out to check up on that Daggett stuff he dug out during his research.  
John is only all too glad to go and have something to do, even if he has no idea what he is looking for in the first place. It will keep his mind occupied while Wayne is meeting up with that lying thief and most of Gotham's police are looking for Bane in the sewers.  
John has a really bad feeling about the whole thing. And he really needs to talk to Ma-ku about the kiss, just to be sure she and him are on the same page about where this is all going. 

~+~  
John is on the phone with Gordon when everything goes to hell. He is just checking shit out and putting the puzzle pieces together. It doesn't paint a pretty picture, when he feels the ground shake and then there is chaos everywhere. He tries to reach Gordon, then Foley and then Ma-ku. 

“Are you okay?” she asks. She's at the manor, thank fucking god. 

“I am, I am, but I have no idea what the hell is going on. I am on my way to Gordon, I'm sure they're out for him.” 

“Be careful John!” 

“Stay where you are,” John says and hangs up. He needs to get to the hospital and fast. He wonders where Batman is, if he's already met up with Kyle. Tries to reach Wayne on his mobile, but only gets the mailbox. He curses and drives faster.  
At least, John thinks, Andy and Lindsey are out of town. As soon as he's found Gordon he needs to contact Eggert. 

~+~  
“We're fucked,” John says and Gordon gives him a look. 

“We are, Blake. Most of the city's cops are down in the sewers. Buried alive. The city is under the law of war. Prisoners are out to get us and there are riots everywhere. Yes, I think we are fucked is pretty much it.”  
At least, John thinks, it can't get any worse.

~+~  
It gets worse. John never really got the whole story out of Wayne and hearing it now read out loud on television – John has no idea what to even say to Gordon. He balls his hands to fists and then makes himself release them slowly. He takes a deep breath. 

“Those men locked up for eight years in Blackgate, and denied parole under the Dent Act, based on a lie?”

"Gotham needed a hero...”

“It needs it now more than ever. You betrayed everything you stood for,” John answers. 

“There's a point, far out there when the structures fail you, and the rules aren't weapons anymore, they're...” he stops, looking for the right word to make John understand, but John doesn't think he could even if he tried. “Shackles letting the bad guy get ahead. One day... you may face such a moment of crisis. And in that moment, I hope you have a friend like I did, to plunge their hands into the filth so that you can keep yours clean!” 

“Your hands look plenty filthy to me, Commissioner,” John answers. 

Gordon looks away. Maybe he is ashamed. Maybe he is tired of all this bullshit too. John needs to find a working phone and try to reach Alfred and Ma-ku again. He needs to know if they heard from Wayne. He doesn't think so, but hope springs eternal. And he needs to make sure they are safe. 

~+~  
He locks himself into the bathroom of Andy's apartment and waits for Alfred or Ma-ku to get the phone. He's holding his breath while it rings. The manor is far out; maybe they're safe from the riots. 

“Yes?” 

“Alfred, thank god. I'm okay, but the city is in chaos.”

“We saw it on the news.” 

“I need you to get Ma-ku and hide wherever it is Wayne is hiding the cowl,” John says. 

“John- I can't take her to the cave.” 

“She isn't safe with me. They're out for cops. Even those in the making. And they will tear her apart for being who she is. You need to get her to that cave. I don't care.” 

“I can't betray Master Bruce.” 

“Alfred. Did you hear from him? Kyle said she is not sure if they killed him. He is no longer here. We are. She is and I want you to get her the hell to that cave and stock up and stuff. We don't know how long we'll have to hold out. And Gordon says we're basically on our own.” 

“What will you do, John?” Alfred asks. 

“What I can to stop this from happening,” John answers. Of that he is sure. “Is she there?” 

“Yes,” Alfred says. 

“I want to talk to her.” 

“Of course,” Alfred answers and hands over the phone. 

“John?” 

“Yes. I'm glad you are okay,” John says. 

“You aren't coming back here, are you?” 

“No. You and Alfred will pack some stuff. Everything you can and you will hide and you will not try to contact me or try to find me. Okay? They're out for cops and I don't know if Wayne made it. He might be dead – don't tell Alfred I said that.” He takes a deep breath. Fuck, he is falling apart talking to her. 

“I can take care of myself. I will take care of Alfred too,” she says. 

“Thank you. I'll try to stay in touch, but I don't know-”

“John. Just don't fucking die on me,” she says with feeling, and he wishes he could see her now. 

“I can't promise that, but I can promise I will try to come back to you in one fucking piece.” 

“I love you,” she says. 

“Go pack your stuff and wait for me. I know it sounds like such bullshit, I know, okay? But please, just wait and don't do anything stupid. I can't lose you.” 

“You're the one being reckless John. You and Wayne.” 

“I know. And I am sorry and you can kick our asses from here to Sunday as soon as everything is over.” 

“I'll hold you to that,” she answers and hangs up on him. It's the smartest thing she could've done John thinks proudly. 

 

 **~Six~**  
Winter hits hard as if to mock the whole situation. John is trying to keep his head down. He is glad he still isn't a real cop. There are names of all the cops out there. Pinned to church doors and courts. People are hunting them down like stray dogs.  
John doesn't get any rations because he can't get his name out there, so he is depending on whatever he can steal or what the boys from the orphanage can get him. It isn't much, but it is enough.  
He and Gordon keep in contact with one of the officers down in the sewers. They need all the backup they can get when shit hits the fan, and if you can believe Fox and Miss Tate it will hit no matter what.  
John and Gordon believe Fox and Miss Tate. 

~+~  
“We don't have enough men,” John says. He's made peace with Gordon and the whole fucked-up situation. There is nothing to be done and thereare bigger fish to fry. They are fighting for survival here. Every day, every hour. He didn't talk to Ma-ku or Alfred for two months. He has no idea how they're holding up. At least they are safe where they are. He wishes he could send Eggert and his dad there too, but he can't. Letting Ma-ku know is one thing, letting everyone else know Wayne's Batman...  
John hates that.  
He doesn't know where Eggert and his family are hiding, and they did offer John a place, but John knows better. If they are caught, if he is, it will endanger them all. Better not to know the details. Better not to try and contact them. Or Ma-ku and Alfred for that matter.  
It still drives John crazy not knowing how they are doing. 

“And we won't have more. They are scared,” Michalsky answers.  
John likes Michalsky, she's a tough one. 

“They should be,” Gordon says. 

“We can't do this on our own,” Matt throws in.  
Matt is a rookie cop. One year on the job and this is his first real clusterfuck situation. John really hopes they'll make it out of here alive. He thinks Matt could be a good cop one day. 

“We have to. There is no one else,” Gordon says.  
John nods. They are on their own. People are afraid. And John can't blame them. Not really. He wishes he could. Still, the fact remains they don't have enough men.  
The government won't help them. Batman is probably dead or worse. John doesn't like to entertain these kinds of thoughts, but he has to prepare himself for that fact. Batman is not here. Bane took him away and did only god knows what to him. He could be lying in a shallow unmarked grave right now.  
Gordon is right. They have to find the bomb, get Fox to do something, and stop this madness and soon. So he can go back to Ma-ku. So he can go back home.  
Or on a quest to find Wayne's body. 

~+~  
Just as John thinks they can maybe make it, everything goes to hell. Gordon and the rest of their small group of brave men are captured and he is alone. Fucking alone. There isn't much he can do and time is running out for him, for them, and for the city.  
There is only one thing he can do and that is to try and free the cops in the sewer tunnels. He has a vague plan that will probably get him killed in the process, but it's that or giving up and John never really learned how to give up. Not hope, at least. It will be his downfall. One day, but maybe not today. 

~+~  
John goes by nightfall. There isn't much time left and the sooner the better. He makes it to the entrance, he even gets their contact out and thinks that maybe, maybe they will make it after all, and then he gets the contact killed and is on his knees facing a fucking gun. He wishes he could've seen her face one more time and closes his eyes. Death doesn't spare anyone. 

~+~  
Well, John thinks, as he opens his eyes again. Saved by the Batman at the last possible moment. Man sure knows how to make an entrance. 

“How did you even know I was here?” 

“It was the most desperate thing to do. It was the last thing to do, I would've done it in your place, John,” Batman answers. 

It makes perfect sense to John. “Okay, so what now?” 

“Count to five and throw it,” Batman says throwing him something John thinks might be a small explosive. John catches, counts, throws. And nothing really happens. 

“I think we need something bigger,” he says, frowning. 

“Out of the way,” Batman shouts. 

John gets out of the way just in time. Fuck it all. But Batman really has the best toys. Still, John thinks, what the hell took him so long? They have merely hours left before the bomb goes off. As soon as this madness is over, John will sit him down and get every freaking detail out of him. For now he is okay with letting Batman handle this. 

“So, now that you freed the police of Gotham, what will you do next?” John asks as the officers are crawling out of the sewers. 

Batman nearly smiles. “You have an army, get them to Gordon and then try to get as many people out as you can.” 

“There is nowhere to go,” John answers and he would rather stay at Batman's side. He was gone for more than five months. John wants an explanation (and to pin him down to the next surface and kiss him senseless, but that is not the time or the place for it). 

“Selina will blow up the blockade over at-”

“You trust Kyle with your toys?” 

“John, we don't have time for this. She will at least want to get out of here and that is her ticket. She will be there.” 

“Okay. And what are you going to do?” John makes himself ask even he knows. 

Batman gives him a look. “I'm going after the bomb. Fox will know what to do.” 

Fuck, fuck and fuck again. John thinks. “I hate this.” 

“John-” 

John sets his jaw. “I get it. Also; thanks by the way for saving my life.” 

“Don't thank me yet-”

“I might not get another chance,” John replies and doesn't wait for Batman to answer. There are too many people out here already. They need to get going. 

~+~  
John is very aware he can still die. He was saved, but the bomb is still in the city. They are still all in danger.  
When this is over he is going to pack his stuff, take Ma-ku and go on a vacation for at least three years, away from here. It's like Gotham is a disaster magnet. 

~+~  
John does what he can to get as many people alert and going. He goes to the orphanage himself. He doesn't trust anyone else with these kids. John cares, this had been his home once upon a time and they have tried to make him feel welcome and loved. It hadn't been their fault John hadn't wanted any of it at the time.  
He gets them into the bus and on the road in minutes. John never really lost hope – even if he had his weaker moments with all the crap that has been happening, no wonder. He thinks now with Batman back in the game things can turn out alright again. 

~+~  
John nearly loses it when the cops on the other side of the bridge don't let them pass. He is so over this. So fucking over this, and suddenly Gordon's words make a lot more sense. Maybe John isn't cut out to be a cop. He just can't muster up the blind obedience in his superiors anymore. Maybe never could.  
They are going to die here because these cops can't think, won't think for themselves, because it is easier to follow orders, no matter how absurd they are.  
Mark's voice makes John look up: his thought temporally interrupted.  
John is probably the only person who watches the bomb go off in horror instead of relief over the bay of Gotham. For this city Batman is just some guy in a cowl, for John he is so much more. And he is dead. Most likely. But then John has thought that before. How many lives can Batman have? 

~+~  
The streets are full of people and the dead. The police rounding up criminals and trying to clean paths. John has no idea what to tell Alfred and Ma-ku, but especially Alfred. John doesn't know if Wayne is dead. He can't know that.  
He steals a car and drives out to the manor hoping Alfred maybe knows something he doesn't. Alfred knew everything from the beginning, he surely knows if there is a chance for Wayne to survive this. 

 

 **~Seven~**  
They don't hear from Wayne for days and then Kyle of all fucking people knocks on their door. 

“I found something,” she says. She doesn't back down from John's glare. Three fucking days after the bomb and she would be the one to find him. John is ready to strangle her for her betrayal. 

“Where is he?” Ma-ku asks in her no nonsense voice, shouldering John out of the way.  
Selina looks at her and then to John again. John wants to slap her, but he doesn't hit women. Not even lying thieves. 

“He needs a doctor. I have no idea how he isn't dead yet-” 

“Where is he?” Ma-ku asks again.  
And now Selina gives her the time of day. John watches, his hands clenched to fists. Good thing Alfred is still down in the cave. 

“In the car. He wouldn't let me get him a doctor,” she answers. 

“John,” Ma-ku snaps. 

“Yes,” he answers and follows her out onto the driveway. 

~+~  
Alfred knows a doctor they can trust with this, but John doesn't leave Wayne's side. Kyle is in the kitchen telling Ma-ku what has happened. John doesn't really care right now. He has no freaking idea how the hell Wayne survived this; the blast, the water – ice cold, the freaking stab-wound. 

“You can't die, can you?” John whispers as the doctor leaves the room.  
Wayne is out cold. John brushes his sweaty hair out of Wayne's face and then leans his head on Wayne's chest.  
He falls asleep that way. 

~+~  
Ma-ku wakes him up some time later with a soft kiss to his temple. 

“How is he?” he asks. 

“Sleeping and you should go to bed too. Alfred is going to watch over him. He needs rest, John. You need rest too.”  
It's true. John hadn't been sleeping for days. He is way too thin from the occupation and his nerves are a wreck. He is sure he looks ten years older than he really is. War would do that to a person.

His stomach makes a noise. “Maybe I'll go to the kitchen first for a sandwich.” 

“We don't have much left, but I think we can find something that will put some meat on your bones again,” she smiles. 

“Thank you,” John says and has no idea for what exactly he is thanking her, probably for sticking with him through all this shit.  
She kisses his nose and grabs his hand to pull him up. He feels tired and weak. He hates that feeling. But at least Wayne is back. And he is still breathing. 

~+~  
John gets the whole story from Ma-ku as she heard it from Kyle. There is no telling how much she left out, but John thinks what they know now paints a pretty accurate picture. He's seen the wounds and he is good at putting pieces together. 

“And he only wanted to get home,” Ma-ku says softly. 

John nods, this is his third mug of coffee and it tastes bitter. He knows he has to sleep. He knows his body is ready to give out on him.  
“At least she brought him here,” John replies. 

“John, he won't be able to do much Heli-skiing anymore,” Ma-ku says. 

“Is that a code for being Batman now?” Alfred asks. 

“Wasn't it always?” Ma-ku answers. 

Alfred smiles at her. “Yes, I guess it was.” 

John's thought about that too. “They think he's dead.” 

“Kyle knows.” 

“But she doesn't know if he'll survive. We don't know if he'll survive,” John answers. Someone has to say it, so they can deal. “No one even knows Wayne is still alive – except Kyle and I think she will keep quiet about it.” He can't say why, but he has a feeling about her. In another life she and Wayne might've even been good for each other. Not in this one. In this one Wayne has John. 

“John?” 

“What if,” he says as the plan is forming in his head, “we just tell the world he died?” 

“What?” Alfred asks. 

“No one knows he is alive. People who might've known he is, was, Batman, would just assume he died too. If he stays dead he could be anyone.” 

“What about the house and the money?” Ma-ku asks. “What about the cave?” 

“Alfred and I get the house and the money, what is left of it. We are his heirs,” John answers. “We could leave Gotham for a while. Say two, three years?” 

“We can't just decide for Master Bruce,” Alfred throws in, but John knows that look on Alfred's face. He thinks this is a good idea. Batman is dead, Wayne is dead. No one would come after them who might know the secret. They could be free. Live without that looming shadow, if, if Wayne can let it go. 

“We can talk about it with him when he is well again.”

“He'll need a new name and papers -” 

“He has several in different names, plus bank accounts all over the world,” Alfred throws in. 

“Okay, one less worry,” John says. He needs to ask Wayne about that one day too. “The only thing we would need is a Death Certificate. Do you think that doctor could write one?” 

“Yes,” Alfred answers without any hesitation.  
The only thing to do is to wait for Wayne to wake up and recover, and give his blessing to this plan. He's been declared dead before. It shouldn't be too much of a shock, John thinks. 

~+~  
“You want to leave Gotham then?” Ma-ku asks. 

“Yes. I hate this city. Hate what it has become. Hate that it takes so much away from-”

“Him? You?” 

“Us,” John says. And he means the children, the lost, the driftwood, the everyday people too. 

“We are still here,” she answers gently. 

“I know, but I was so fucking worried and all I did was blame myself for getting you into this.” 

“John. Coming with you was my decision. I wanted to be with you. I want to be with you,” she kisses his knuckles. For once her hands are smooth and his are a mess. Cuts and bruises everywhere. 

“I'm sorry I couldn't tell you,” John says, leaning his head against the back of the couch. 

“That Wayne is Batman?” 

“Yeah, that.” 

“I get it. He is Batman. Was Batman. You can't just tell people these things. I am glad however  
that you did tell me, or that you made Alfred tell me. They have some really cool stuff down there.” 

“Really? I've never been. Never was able to figure out where the cave is, exactly. Always got distracted by someone or something. I thought the old tunnels under the house?” 

“Yes and no. There is a cave, John. A really freakishly big cave. With bats and all kinds of cool toys.” She sounds excited about it. John is too. “And a spare suit.” 

“I knew he would hide the cowl down there,” John says. 

“It feels...it's really strange to touch it.” 

“Did you put it on?” John asks. 

“Yeah. Alfred nearly killed me. It's too big in the shoulders,” she smiles. 

“How was it?” 

“Strange, but good. I felt so...not exactly like him, but not like me either. Maybe like the boy I could've been if I weren't me?” She shakes her head. “I don't know. Powerful.”  
That John believes in a heartbeat. 

 

 **~Eight~**  
It takes another three days for Wayne to wake up, and even then it's only for a few minutes. But it gives them hope. Alfred is nearly in tears, but he's a trained butler with an image to uphold so he doesn't show it – much. The doctor is hopeful too. She checks Wayne's stitches and his blood and all kinds of things John has not the head for.  
John reads to him when he's out. He spends hours in Wayne's bedroom reading poetry or shitty crime-novels or Japanese fairy-tales. Everything he thinks Wayne would enjoy too if he were awake.  
Ma-ku is restless. She is in the gym a lot or running. Swimming sometimes too. John loves her and he knows she loves him too, but all of his mind is on Wayne now, and he appreciates that she gives him his space when he needs it. 

~+~  
“The doctor is optimistic,” John says. 

She puts the brush away and looks at him through the mirror. “He'll be fine.” 

“I know, that is not what I am worried about,” John admits, sitting down at the foot of the bed. He stretches his legs out on the hardwood floor and wriggles his toes. He is so fucking tense, every move feels like a battle. 

“You're worried about what he will do once he is fully recovered.” 

“He won't is the thing. He won't be the man he used to be,” John says. 

“After all this? No one will be who they used to be John. You've changed too.” 

He smiles. He guesses he did. For one he doesn't want to be a cop anymore. If he'd had his badge at the time he would've thrown it into the river as he was standing on the bridge with those kids waiting for the end to come.  
Gordon still didn't give up on him. Still thinks he can change John's mind.  
“Did you think about picking up the cowl when you were down there with Alfred?” John asks. 

“We had other things to worry about,” she answers and then after a short pause, “but yeah, and wouldn't it be the kicker? Me, a girl by day and a boy vigilante by night? I call that a secret identity.” 

“Clearly Wayne is a bloody amateur, love,” John says.  
She laughs. 

~+~  
“If I have to listen to one more John Sinclair case again, I will jump out of the window,” Wayne groans. His voice sounds like hell. John puts the book away. 

“But he just discovered the vampire coven,” he answers with a smile. His heart is beating madly in his chest. If Wayne can complain about John's choice of books, he is on his way to kick ass again. 

“Jump out of the window, John.” 

“You wouldn't even make it to the window, Wayne,” John answers reasonable. 

“Stop torturing me with John Sinclair, and I won't have to try to reach it and prove you wrong.” 

“How are you feeling?” He asks. 

“Like I was stabbed and nearly drowned. How are you?” 

“Like I thought you were dead for four days,” John answers. 

Wayne closes his eyes. “I'm sorry.” 

“For what?” John wonders. 

“For not telling you about the auto-pilot, for getting stabbed in the first place.” 

“You saved the day and people think you died a hero. I think we are fine.” 

“John-” 

“You need to rest,” John cuts in and Wayne nods, closing his eyes.  
John picks another book. 

~+~  
Wayne makes it to the bathroom alone on the fourth day after he complained about John's choice of books.  
Ma-ku smiles at John and John grins back. It shouldn't mean so much, but it does. Wayne groans and curses under his breath, Alfred is hovering around the door, but doesn't help Wayne.  
He rolls his eyes at them all as he comes back into the bedroom.  
“I took a piss, for god's sake,” he grumbles as he makes his way over to the bed.

“You did it alone,” Ma-ku answers. 

“I did it alone before too,” Wayne says. 

“It's progress,” John throws in. 

“Yes, and the next thing on my list: showering alone.” 

“Oh, what a shame. I didn't have a turn to help you yet, Mister Wayne,” Ma-ku answers.  
Wayne gives her a look and then a smile. 

~+~  
Wayne is limping when he comes downstairs for breakfast. John notices because John notices things. He notices exits and smells and colours. He notices voices and that Wayne is limping when he enters the kitchen, also that he's sweating slightly. The simple task of getting out of bed, showering (his hair is still a bit damp at the nape), and coming down for breakfast is exhausting for Wayne. John doesn't mention it, because everyone, especially Alfred, is in high spirits. 

“Can't stay in bed forever. There are things to do,” he says. 

“Like what?” Ma-ku wants to know.

“Wayne Enterprises,” Wayne says. 

“People think you are dead, Master Bruce,” Alfred throws in as he sets down a mug of coffee and fresh cinnamon rolls. He's made them himself. 

“Wouldn't be the first time,” Wayne answers taking a sip and then he looks at them all. One after the other. 

“We thought it might be a good thing for you to stay dead,” John says. 

“What?” 

John takes a deep breath, and Ma-ku squeezes his hand under the table, he tells Wayne about their plan.  
Wayne is silent for the whole time and even after John finishes he just sips his coffee and says nothing. 

“You don't approve?” Ma-ku asks. 

Wayne shakes his head. “No, it is a good idea...I didn't think-” 

And John gets it then. “You planed on not coming back, but you were stabbed and needed help. I-” he cuts himself off. Suddenly all the aliases in different countries make a lot more sense. 

“There was nothing-”

“There is me, there is Alfred for god's sake. He raised you!” John explodes and gets up to put some space between him and Wayne. He doesn't want to punch a sick man, even if Wayne so obviously deserves it. 

“You have Ma-ku,” Wayne says like it should mean something. John knows that. John knows it. It doesn't mean John can't have anyone else. Doesn't mean John can't love anyone else and he's _told_ Wayne. 

“You have Ma-ku,” John counters.

“John-”

“No! What do you think? That I only said it because you were about to die? That I wanted to give you something? Hope? A reason to come back? You think that was pity? That I kissed you- I,” he stops again. “I love you. I’ve always loved you and that love changed and it grew, but I still love you,” John says and it doesn't matter that Alfred is in the kitchen too, it doesn't matter that Ma-ku is, because she knows and she is feeling it as well. “The only one who is making this difficult is you. Like you did all those years ago. I got it back then, you did it because you have some misguided sense of moral standards – I didn’t get it, because you have your own fucking moral code anyway, I understood, but I am not a child anymore. I wasn't even one back then. I loved you, I wanted you and you pushed me away. And now you're doing it again and think that it's best for me. Well, newsflash it's not. And I should know what is best for me. I always knew that. You are being a coward, Bruce. Again.” 

“John,” Ma-ku says softly and he looks at her. 

“And you're falling for her,” John adds. It's like a compulsion now to tell all the secrets, to rip them out and throw them on the table for everyone to see who needs to see them. 

“Yes,” Wayne answers like it's a confession of a sin. 

She reaches out then and touches Wayne's fingertips with hers. He looks away from John and at their hands on the table.  
“I'm falling for you too,” she says softly. 

Maybe, John thinks looking at them, maybe one person could never be enough to make Wayne understand that he is loved. Maybe that's why it never worked before. But John isn't alone in this. And Ma-ku is a force if she wants something. She's a fighter. And she, unlike John, fights dirty.  
Wayne's fingers curl around hers and John just stares, there is nothing else to do.  
He can't make Wayne believe them.  
They can only wait. 

~+~  
John stays away from Wayne for the rest of the day. 

“So, you and Master Bruce,” Alfred says, sitting down at the table. 

John looks up at him, his head still pillowed on his arms. “Yeah...I don't even know.”

Alfred smiles, but it's tight. “He is-”

“It's not like I just met him yesterday, Alfred. I know exactly who he is, how he is. I always knew.” 

“He loves you John,” Alfred says. 

“I know. I always knew that. That he loved me and thought it was wrong that was the problem. And he still thinks that. He doesn't get that he doesn't take anything away from me. Doesn't get that he is an addition rather than an obstacle of some sorts.”

“He's old-fashioned,” Alfred answers. 

John smiles. “Yeah, but it's stupid. I want him to be a part of my life, but with him being stubborn and thinking he is stealing her from me, like he could, you know?” he says. “He can't, and even if she would fall for him and leave me, it wouldn't be his fault or hers, or mine.” 

“That is a pretty grown up way to see things, John.” 

“Someone has to be the adult in our relationship, and god knows it never had been Wayne,” John replies. 

“Yes, that is very true,” Alfred says and then after a pause. “He will come around.” 

On what exactly, John wants to ask. On the whole idea of them being together? The three of them? Of him being declared dead? Of them leaving this forsaken city? Leaving this house behind, this life, this name and most important: The Batman?  
It might be selfish, but John hopes, god how he hopes, that Wayne will leave everything for him. Give up everything that was important to him. That he loves John enough to do that. That he cares enough for himself to lead another life. 

“The only thing we can do is hope,” John says. 

“You always gave us that,” Alfred answers. 

 

 **~Nine~**  
“You know,” she says, “When you came back I was hoping for some kind of 'we are not dead, welcome home' sex.” 

“You are not alone in that,” John admits. He feels drained. The whole day was a clusterfuck. Wayne is staying in his study and only Alfred is allowed to go near the door. To bring Wayne food. John is so close to call it quits and just leave Wayne's sorry ass again, but he knows that this time it would be for good.  
Alfred once told him that Wayne only can accept so much love in his life from the people around him. He wonders if this is it then. “Do you think we are too much to handle for him?” he asks.

“Where is this coming from John?” 

“Maybe we're suffocating him with our-” he waves his hand, because he has no idea how to word it.

“We are not,” Ma-ku says, falling down into the bed beside him. She's only wearing a t-shirt. He runs his fingers over her bare arm slowly, absent-mindedly. “We are offering. It is up to him if he is man enough to take what he wants and pay for it.” 

“You're wearing his T-shirt,” John says, burying his nose in the fabric. 

“It is a turn on,” she admits. “His smell.” 

“It is,” he answers. 

~+~  
“This isn't subtle, John,” Wayne says, but his voice hitches. 

It makes a thrill run through John's veins. “I think we established that I don't give a shit about being subtle when I was seventeen and told you to fuck me,” John answers and leans in to kiss the corner of Wayne's mouth. 

“Where you waiting to ambush me?” Wayne is balling his hands to fists on his side, so he doesn't reach out and touch John, drag him closer. John can tell. 

“I knew you would come out for the cinnamon-rolls, so yeah. I was waiting,” he kisses Wayne's cheek, softly. 

“John-” 

“I won't beg this time, I won't make you, I won't seduce you into it. I won't be blamed for this. It has to come from you. You have to meet us halfway.” He steps back then, even if it's really freaking hard.  
Wayne grabs his shirt and then just holds on, stares at his hand as if it betrayed him.  
Love, John thinks, was never their problem and the only one they ever had. 

“I know,” Wayne says and lets go, one finger after another, like he doesn't want to, like he has to concentrate on letting go. 

~+~  
“So how long are you willing to wait?” John asks. 

She looks at him like he just asked the stupidest question in the history of stupid questions. “As long as it takes. As long as you are willing to wait for him to come around.” 

“A part of me is waiting since I was seventeen, Ma-ku,” he admits. 

“I don't think it will take another five years, John. I think you're wearing him down.” 

“I think you are, walking around half naked all the time when he can see.” 

At least Wayne isn't staying in his room or the study anymore. John takes what he can get these days with Wayne.  
She grins. “He needs to know exactly on what he is missing out. I know he wants to hit that,” she says, slapping her own ass playfully. 

“Who wouldn't?” 

“There are a lot of people with no good taste or a sense of adventure,” she answers. “I don't care for those people.” 

He grabs her arm then and pulls her into his lap. “You think he will come around sooner if we have really loud sex just outside his door?” he whispers into her ear and feels her shiver. He has the feeling he will never run out of new exciting things to discover about her. “You would like that. It turns you on thinking about him hearing us, maybe getting off to your voice screaming my name-”

“Screaming, hmm?” she cuts in, but her voice is breathy and he can feel her getting hard. 

“These walls are built to last, the doors are thick, screaming, love,” he answers. 

“Will you take him against his door? Or will you go on your knees for me? Or-”

“Whatever the hell you want,” he answers and kisses her hard. She bites at his lip and rearranges herself in his lap so their erections brush against each other. “Rutting like teenagers it is for the moment, hmm?” 

“Shut up and put your hand down my pants...”  
He laughs into the soft skin of her neck and does exactly that. 

~+~  
John has called Andy as soon as communication has been restored for the whole city. Andy had been frantic, Lindsey too. John didn't know what to tell him about Wayne. He still doesn't know what to tell him about Wayne and just lies.  
John hates lying to Andy. 

“It's just so frustrating. If he could say if he wants to be declared dead or not I could tell Andy and plan the rest around that fact. Right now I am telling him Wayne is missing,” John says. 

“I will talk to him, John,” Alfred answers. 

“Thank you. I do hope you can knock some sense into him. I don't get it; he wanted to be declared dead before. He wanted to just vanish. He wanted us to think he's dead. So why is he hesitating now?” 

“I don't know.” 

“They will come as soon as the bridges are restored and people can travel again safely. We need to come up with something soon.”  
Alfred nods.  
John thinks that Alfred just wants this to be over soon, too. That he wants for Wayne to find something else, something outside of Gotham and all the memories here. Maybe Alfred never wanted for Wayne to come back from his self-finding trip to Tibet.  
John never asked. 

~+~  
John looks up as Wayne puts a mug of tea in front of him and sits down in the other chair. Ma-ku and Alfred are out grocery shopping, not that there is much to shop for, but they are supplied with the basics.  
John begins to think that maybe this is a set-up. He takes the mug anyway. 

“I talked to Alfred,” he begins. John nods and waits. “He told me what a pain in everyone's ass I am being for not making a decision.” 

“Well,” John says. “Go on. Not going to argue with that.” 

Wayne smiles. “What if it doesn't work out John?” 

“Then we break up, you leave, go and live a life that isn't this,” John answers. “But don't you think I will give up on you just because you're damaged goods. I didn't give up yet, did I?” 

“No. And you did find someone better,” Wayne says. 

“She's not better. You can't see things that way. You can't see people I love that way, or people in general. She is not better, she is different. She fits against parts of me you don't. You probably don't even know about. But the same is true for you. You're not taking anything away from me by being with her too, by loving her, you're gaining something.” 

“Another person I can mess up,” Wayne says. 

“Someone that can hold you together. I'm beginning to think it is a job for more than one person.” John takes a sip of his tea and looks at Wayne. “I'm not stupid, you know? I know she has secrets, I know you know a few of them I don't. I know she shares things, shared things with you she doesn't share with me, can't, won't, doesn't think are important to me. And I think it's a healthy way to live. You can't make another person, one person, your one and only and everything. It would crush that person.” 

“Like it crushed Rachel?” Wayne asks. 

“As I said,” John answers, “I think this is a two man job.” 

“So, you're teaming up on me.” 

“You did hear us having sex against your bedroom door, hmm? I wasn't sure.” 

“Oh that wood isn't that thick John.” 

“Did you get off on it? Did you get off to it? Us?” John asks, leaning closer to Wayne. 

“I would have to be dead not to get hard at the thought of you two fucking,” Wayne answers. 

“We're making love, you pig,” John says. 

Wayne grabs him by his shirt and drags him close; John loses the hold on his mug, but doesn't care.  
“No John,” Wayne answers, John can feel his breath on his lips, “that was hot, messy, passionate fucking if I ever heard any.” 

“Did a lot of people let you watch, listen to them having sex for your pleasure?” 

“No one who ever meant anything,” Wayne answers and John kisses him. 

~+~  
John knows exactly what Wayne is seeing, because it's what John saw all these years ago: John's fingers in her hair, Ma-ku on her knees, John biting his lip to keep the noises in. And the funny thing is this wasn't even a ploy. It just happened. John hadn't known Wayne was in the library.  
Wayne is staring at him and John stares back and then he opens his mouth to say something, he has no idea what, but what comes out is a soft moan that sounds a bit like 'Bruce'. There is a moment of absolute stillness and then Wayne crosses the distance between them.  
John's fingers tighten in Ma-ku's hair as Wayne grabs his face to turn him so that he can kiss John. It's hard and passionate and John is so close to coming. His hips stutter and then push forward, but Ma-ku holds him in place, she has no problem with that and makes a soft, low noise at the back of her throat.  
Wayne's hand runs over his cheek, his neck, the curve of his shoulder, the arm and down to his hand, until it settles over his fingers in Maku's hair.  
John comes then, eyes closed, with Bruce swallowing his moans.  
His body feels boneless as he sinks down to the floor with them, loosening his fingers, making himself let go, opening his eyes. He knows he should probably put on his pants, but he gets distracted by Wayne grabbing Ma-ku by the neck, surging forward and kissing he hard and messy, tasting John on her tongue. She slings her arms around him, leans back, pulls him with her and John watches.  
Watches them grind against each other. Her yellow dress rides up and John runs a hand over her thigh and hip, plays with the rim of her panties until she adjust: slinging a leg over Wayne's back, holding firmly on with her fingers on his neck and dragging him closer still.  
John can't see Wayne's face, because he's buried it against her neck and hair, but it doesn't matter. They're shaking and rutting frantically and it's so hot John can barely breathe. She searches out his hand blindly as she's about to come and he intertwines their fingers. Her grip is crushing as her orgasm washes over her.  
They fall asleep in the hall, pressed against each other in a messy pile of clothes and limbs. 

~+~  
John wakes up in his bed, alone and wonders if he maybe dreamed it all. Or if this had been Wayne's breaking point. He stretches, feeling the blanket drag against his bare skin. Not a dream, he doesn't sleep naked. 

“So,” he says without opening his eyes, he senses a presence and hopes it isn't Alfred. 

“So...” Wayne answers. 

And John does open his eyes then. Wayne is wearing a t-shirt and clean boxers, holding a mug of tea. 

“Was this -” John stops. “What was this?” 

“You wearing me down,” Wayne answers, but he's smiling.  
John smiles back. 

~+~  
Wayne is declared dead the next week. John and Alfred get the house, and what is left of the money.  
John still has no idea what he wants to do with his life, but he’s only 22, he thinks there is still time to figure it out.


	6. 'dark'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this I the 'dark' version of chapter 5 now. Icalynn wrote a [companion-piece](http://archiveofourown.org/works/714040) for it and you should all check it out. Even if it will make you tear up.  
> All my thanks to my beta, seriously. <3

PART V: (age 19-22)

**~One~**  
“John?” Andy asks. His voice is rough from sleep, yet he is alert. John would be too if he were in Andy's place. They just talked three days ago after all and- 

“Andy-” John's voice breaks. He can't say it. He can't. 

“What happened?” 

He takes a deep breath and stares at the wallpaper over the sofa. Faded green laced with gold. “She's dead.” 

“Where are you?” Andy asks. 

“Home.” 

“We'll be there as soon as we can get a flight. Don't do anything stupid, okay?”

“Yes.” 

“John. I mean it. I will kill you if you do something stupid.” 

“I know,” John says, and doesn't say he kind of maybe counts on it. He hangs up before Andy can answer that. 

~+~  
John is staring at the wall all day and waiting, but he knows she won't come home anymore. She won't come home anymore because she's dead and John is _alone_. He is dimly aware that he hasn't eaten in two days, and that Andy probably doesn't have the money to book a fucking flight to Korea, but he's not – he can't. It only registers for a few minutes when he can make himself think. He doesn't like to think much. He just wants the pain to go away. And the worst part is that he can't even blame anyone for this. When Wayne hurt him, it was all on Wayne, but this – there is no one to blame and he can't be thinking about this now. 

~+~  
The banging on the door wakes him up. He doesn't know when he fell asleep: it doesn't matter. It's dark outside. The door is shaking in its frame; John gets up and shuffles over to open it.  
As soon as he does he finds himself hugged. Lindsey smells like unwashed clothes and skin and her hair like vanilla and John clings to her, because she is here and she is alive and she smells like childhood dreams and home. He is shaking and he knows it and she holds him tighter, right there in the entryway. He doesn't ever want to move. If they move the questions will start and things will be organized and he will have to face reality.  
And reality is that there is nothing here anymore for him.  
“John,” she whispers and he lets out a shaky breath and breaks down, letting his head fall on her shoulder and cries until he feels too tired to be standing up. 

~+~  
Andy is making tea in the kitchen and Lindsey is stroking his hair and it all feels so normal except that Andy never was here before. Never made it between school and his job and Lindsey. Except that Ma-ku is dead and John is feeling hollow. 

“John,” Lindsey says quietly. 

“I don't want to talk about it,” John answers and doesn't even know what 'it' is. 

Andy puts the mug on the small coffee-table and John closes his eyes. He doesn't want tea. He doesn't want- he doesn't know.  
Be here maybe? This place is only a place now; it's not a home without her. He lets out a slow breath and only concentrates on the feeling of Lindsey's hand in his hair.  
It lulls him into sleep. 

~+~  
John wakes what feels like days later to Lindsey and Andy talking in the kitchen and the TV running. It's a soap Ma-ku and he used to watch. He switches the TV off when he enters the living room and looks over at them. 

“I want to go ho-” he stops. He doesn't have a home anymore. This isn't it. Wayne manor isn't it. But he can't be here. He can't be here because if he stays he'll go crazy and the only thing to do is to remove himself from this environment. “Go back. I want to go back to Gotham.” 

“To Wayne?” Andy asks carefully. 

“Wayne doesn't know. No one knows if you didn't tell them,” John answers and then: “Did you tell them?” 

“No,” Lindsey says. “No, John. God. We didn't have time. We just came here, we-” she runs a hand through her hair. It's so much shorter now than it used to be and it's fire-hell red. It looks good on her. He thinks Ma-ku would've liked her. “We just came here to be with you.” 

“I know. I know. I am sorry. I just want to go. I want to-” he stops. He wants her back that is what he wants. He wants her back. He wants the accident to never have happened and for her to be alive and them being happy together again. But he can't have that. He can't have it like he couldn't have revenge for his father's death and how he couldn't make Wayne love him enough. 

“What about Alfred?” Andy asks. 

“No. I can't. I can't go back there,” John says. And he can't go back there. Three years and Wayne didn't even contact him once. They are strangers. 

“Alfred still cares,” Lindsey throws in gently. 

“I _know_ ,” and that is the problem. He can't be around people who knew her, and Alfred knew her. 

“You will stay with us then,” Lindsey decides. 

“Thank you,” he answers. He isn't going to fight this. He can't be alone. He knows he can't be alone right now. When he is alone his brain gets up to all kinds of crazy ideas. Unhealthy ideas. She gets up then like she just knows and hugs him. He clings to her, again, like last night and he doesn't care. 

“Do you want to take any of the stuff or should we sell it all?” 

“Sell it all,” John whispers. He doesn't want anything from here. He'll have the memories and that's bad enough. 

“We can go tomorrow if we can get a flight,” Andy says. 

“Yes.” The sooner the better.

~+~  
They sleep in the bed together. Andy on one side, Lindsey on the other. Keeping him close, keeping him grounded. Lindsey changed the sheets too, because it was unhealthy how he was inhaling her fading scent and they all know it.  
He's feeling like he's going to suffocate. He knows he won't, but-

“You're alright,” Andy whispers and kisses his temple. 

“I'm not,” John admits and Lindsey pushes closer, throwing one of her legs over his, pinning him down. He should feel boxed in, because he is, between them he is, but he feels safe instead. 

“You're not then,” she says. “It doesn't matter. We love you anyway. I said it before and I'll say it as many times as you need to hear it.” 

“Stop proposing a threesome,” he whispers. 

She kisses his cheek. Her lips are soft and a bit moist. “I got you into bed with me, didn't I?”  
He grabs her hand under the covers and holds on. She did and he would, right now he would, because bad ideas seem like good ones right now.  
She squeezes back. “Sleep now, yeah?” 

“I'll try.” 

“That's all we ask for, John,” Andy says. 

John wants to tell them that he loves them too, but somehow the words get stuck. He can't press them out. They hurt. They hurt so much. He bites his lip and keeps them in then. Because it's easier and he is so tired of hurting. 

 

**~Two~**  
John feels hollow and burned out. He fingers the piece of wallpaper until it feels worn and thin.  
Lindsey and Andy are watching him. There is always one of them close by. John knows what they must think, but he didn't do anything stupid when he was alone. When he watched the doctors switch off the machines. He won't do anything stupid now and they have a life here. 

“You need to go to school,” he says the second week in at breakfast. 

“I need to finish a project and I can do it here too,” Andy answers. 

“Right, because there is so much room for all your supplies.” 

Andy gives him a look. “I'll make do.” 

“You don't have to. I am not going to jump from the bridge.” 

“I didn't think you would.” 

“Liar,” John says with a smile. 

Andy smiles back. “We just want to be here for you.”

“Because I'm not alright?” 

“Because you are not alright,” Andy answers. 

John nods. He isn't and he admitted it too. So there is no way back now. Before Ma-ku he wouldn't have been so carefree with his feelings. He needs to make it stop. He feels like he's bleeding out.  
“It'll get better.” 

“I know, but I know it will take time too,” Andy replies and John feels like an idiot. Of course Andy knows because Andy is a freaking orphan like John. More so maybe. John at least had had Wayne. Andy never got any family. John doesn't even know why Andy ended up in the orphanage. He never asked and Andy never offered. 

“I'm sorry,” John blurs out. 

“What?” 

“I've been an idiot.” 

“John. You aren't making any sense,” Andy says patiently. And John supposes he doesn't make any sense right now, but it doesn't matter. He gets up and hugs Andy and Andy hugs back, it's a bit awkward what with Andy still sitting, but John doesn't care and Andy doesn't seem to mind either.  
“I know.” 

~+~  
John is existing day to day to day. And at night they let him crawl into their bed and don't say a word about John not being able to sleep alone.  
John still feels a bit like he is stealing slowly, but surely, their home, their space.

“You are thinking,” Lindsey says, looking up from her laptop. 

“What?” 

“I can hear you thinking and it makes me crazy.” 

“I will go and think somewhere else then,” John answers. The apartment is feeling too small today. Maybe some fresh air will do the trick. 

She sighs. “I am stuck.” She closes the laptop and leans her head on the back of the couch. “It sucks.” 

“I'm sure it doesn't,” John says. He's read a few of her short-stories and they were pretty good, but to be honest he read them when she was sixteen, so... He has to admit he has no idea what she's writing about these days. 

She gives him a look. “You have no idea what you're talking about.” 

John shrugs. “Wanna go for ice-cream?” 

“What?” 

“Isn't that the way the female species deals with the world being a shitty place? I bet it works when you're stuck too.” 

She laughs, sitting up straight. “Yes, yes, it does help.” 

~+~  
It's cold outside. The sun is shinning, but it's weak and the trees are losing leaves every second. Autumn used to be one of his favourite seasons back at the manor. She takes a deep breath and then grabs his hand. 

“Forgot my gloves,” she says. 

John squeezes her hand. “We're going for ice-cream. I don't think gloves would be a good idea.” 

“Hmm...” 

“Tell me about your story.” 

“It's about two people trapped in a manor.” 

“And?” 

“And outside there are zombies waiting to eat them.” 

“Do they like each other?” 

“The zombies?” she asks distracted. 

“The people?” 

“No, not really. But they are the only two people alive. Or think they are the only two people alive.” 

“Will they fall in love?” 

“I don't know yet. But they're having sex.” 

John nods. “Is this the problem? That they aren't sure?” 

“I have no idea. The problem is, I think, that I want to write about serial killers in love.” 

He gives her a sidelong look. “Serial killers in love?” 

“Serial killers are people too. I think they can have romantic feelings for someone.” 

“Okay.” 

She squeezes his hand. “Everyone can fall in love.” 

~+~  
John has episodes. He likes to call them that, because he has no idea what else to call them. The other word would be insanity. And he knows he is not insane. He is just sad. On some days it's okay. He thinks he can get out of bed and face the day, maybe even do something worthwhile while Andy and Lindsey are out and about forging their futures. John has still no idea what he wants to do with the rest of his life.  
When he was younger he wanted to be Batman but that is not something he wants to be anymore. Then he wanted to be...well a normal person with a girl and a few kids, acting. Acting had been fun. Like the modelling, but it's not something he thinks he will pursue here. Not because it will be harder, but because this is not what he wants to do with his life now that his life will be without her.  
He is not an artist, he doesn't like to write. The only thing he always wanted was revenge since he was a kid. But maybe he mistook it for revenge and the thing he wanted was justice. 

~+~  
He brings it up over breakfast his third month in. His money is running out slowly, but he has still enough to rent a small apartment somewhere. Lindsey and Andy don't want any money for rent from him. Of course they don't want it. She is rich and they both love him. 

“You want a job?” Andy asks, pouring tea. 

“Yes. I think I can face the outside world now. For a few hours a day,” John answers, nodding his thanks. 

“What kind of job?” 

“It doesn't matter for now.” 

“Did you think about studying something?” she asks. 

“I don't have the money right now-”

“Mister Wayne-” 

“No,” John answers. 

“You're smart, you could be a lawyer or something,” she says. 

Like Rachel? John thinks. No and no again. He could never be a lawyer. “I don't want to be a lawyer, Lindsey.” 

“What do you want to be then when you grow up, John?” Andy asks with a teasing smile. 

Happy, John thinks, but doesn't say. “I don't know yet. I think I need a bit more time to figure it out.” 

“You can stay here as long as you need and you know it,” Lindsey says, grabbing his hand and squeezing gently. 

“I know.” 

~+~  
John gets a job as a bouncer at a club in the not so great part of town. Lindsey isn't too thrilled, but John can hold his own. He can kick ass with the best of them and it doesn't matter that he is so much thinner than the other bouncers. 

“I have a no nonsense face,” John says over dinner. 

“You do,” Andy answers looking at him. “I never really saw it before.” 

“It's because we're friends and I never wanted to scare the living hell out of you.” 

“Ah...well, that explains a lot then.” 

~+~  
Sometimes John still breaks down. It can be a song or a word or something he sees in a shop-window that reminds him of her and he nearly goes in to buy it for her before he remembers that he really, really, shouldn't. That she doesn't need anything anymore.  
He can't remember it hurting so much when his mom died, but maybe he was too small to understand the pain her absence left. He remembers he felt mostly anger and rage when his dad died. He was angry because his father had been a failure and it was his fault John was alone now. Is alone now.  
This is a meltdown day. And John can't even say what triggered it. He is holding back the sadness, but the anger spills out unbidden. 

“Because I loved her and I never told her!” John screams and he wants to destroy something. Anything. 

“She knew,” Andy answers gently. 

“How can you be so sure? How can you know?” John demands. 

“Because you slept with her, because you opened up to her, because the people who are important to you always know you love them. That handful of us. We know. She would've been a total idiot not to know that you loved her John. And I didn't get the impression she was an idiot.” 

“She wasn't.” He is tired of feeling that way. He is tired of thinking it over and over and over. To play the what if game. What if they took another taxi? What if they hadn't made out like teenagers? What if her parents cared more? (But that is such bullshit, John knows. They maybe didn't get along well, but she was still their child.) What if? What if? It doesn't matter; John can't change any of it. Like he couldn't change it when his parents died. 

“John,” Andy says softly. 

“I'm tired and angry and sad. I am so fucking sad,” John admits. 

“I know,” Andy says. 

John lets himself sink down onto the floor and closes his eyes. He hears Andy putting on a record and then he lies beside John as 'Let It Be' plays. John presses his hands to his eyes to keep the tears at bay. It doesn't work. 

~+~  
Sometimes it feels like every single person John loved left him. But Andy's still there and Lindsey and Alfred. Very much alive. And so is Wayne.  
Even if people haven't seen Wayne in years. There are the most ridiculous rumours going on.  
John wonders if Wayne really had an accident, but if that were true, John is sure Alfred would have said something.  
So Wayne is being Wayne. Famous recluse of Gotham.  
And John really needs to stop thinking about Wayne. It does him no good. It's just another unhappy love-story and John is tired of those too. 

~+~  
The bouncer job is better than he had thought at first. On most nights people behave, but when they don't he can just rage a bit and it feels good to kick some stupid fucker's ass, because he so obviously deserves it.  
When he lets Matt clean his cuts he has an empathy. This is something he should be doing for the rest of his life. Not being a bouncer, but putting people in their place that deserve it. 

~+~  
“A cop?” Lindsey asks. Disbelief colouring her voice. 

“Yeah, I thought about it for some time now. I think I would be good at it.” 

“You did want to become a vigilante since forever.” 

John rolls his eyes. “I would be doing something good. Getting the scum off the streets.” 

“John, you could do that as a lawyer too,” Lindsey says reasonably.

“Not again. I don't want to be a lawyer. I don't want a desk-job either. What I want is being out there and fight crime.” 

Andy smiles, “You will be good at it too. Even if I think there isn't too much crime going on anymore since the Dent Act.” 

“There are still people robbing old ladies and husbands beating their wives,” Lindsey throws in. “That is human nature, it will always happen.” 

“Wow, you don't have much faith in humanity, do you?” John asks. 

She shrugs. “Eggert and I once broke into his dad's office, you know?” 

John can fill in the rest. Eggert's dad does a lot pro-bono shit too, John knows. “Not everyone is like that.” 

“I know, but you can never tell. Can you? I mean, see Bambi,” Lindsey answers. 

John nearly flinches. He didn't think about her for years. “She didn't look crazy and I don't think she was. She was just desperate.” 

“And that made her hurt you. Because she was petty and didn't believe Wayne loved her enough. And I always wondered about that, you know? What is enough?”  
John doesn't have an answer to that. 

~+~  
“You know the pay is shitty too,” Lindsey says flopping down next to him on the sofa. 

“Well, I will have to stay here a bit longer then,” John answers, joking. 

She looks at him hard. “You will stay here until you can afford a real apartment in a semi okay part of town.” 

“I'm touched.” 

She slaps him. Hard. “I don't joke. I am concerned about you. There may not be so many scum around anymore, but that doesn't mean that there aren't any crazy people out there. I worry about you.” 

“You don't have to.” 

“I know I don't have to John. I worry because I love you and you mean a lot to me. Damn it!” 

He pulls her close and hugs her then. “I didn't mean it that way.” 

“Sometimes I really don't know what to do with you.” 

“I'm trying.” 

“I know. I know. I just wish you could have all the things you want.” She sighs. “I was jealous of you when we first met, you know? Or maybe only before. Because you were so good at martial arts and in school and you got to hang out with Andy all the time and you were living at Wayne manor.” 

“It seemed like sunshine and rainbows all the time for me, hmm?” 

“Yes, from the outside.” 

“It was. You know the years at the manor? Even when I was miserably in love with Wayne, it was still a good time. And then the years in Korea-” he stops, swallows hard. “That was my life; the years in Korea should have been my life.” 

“John-” 

“I'm fine,” he takes a deep breath. “On my way to fine at least. I left this town and I built a life over there and now I am going to build a life here.” 

“I wonder. Do you blame him for making you leave?” Lindsey asks softly. 

“No. I would've never met Ma-ku if I hadn't left.” 

“I know. That is my point.” 

“It hurts now, but I wouldn't want to miss it. I was happy. I mean like I never was here.” And he knows it sounds hard, because people here loved him too, love him still, but that is a whole other kind of love. 

She nods. John is pretty sure she gets it. “I am still not thrilled you want to become a cop.” 

“If it makes you feel better, I want to be commissioner one day.” 

“Ah, you have ambition then. Good to know, Blake.” 

 

**~Three~**  
Getting into the academy is easy enough. John has always had good marks and has no criminal record. He is smart, fit and speaks three languages.  
Lindsey is still sad he won't be a lawyer. John is thrilled to be finally doing something. And when he gets home he is too tired to think.  
All in all he thinks life is getting better. 

~+~  
Apart from Andy and Lindsey, John has no social life to speak off. He likes most of the other cadets well enough, but he doesn't really click with anyone. Maybe he doesn't want to. John is just social enough that it doesn't raise any red flags. So that people don't want to find out more about him. John isn't happy, but he is content and that is more than he had been when he came back to Gotham. 

“I'm thinking about getting my own place,” John says over breakfast. 

Andy looks up from the paper and at him. “Your own place?” 

“You don't have to leave here. We have enough space and you don't earn enough to afford anything sensible,” Lindsey throws in. She pours them tea and he nods his thanks. They are really stupidly domestic he thinks. Nine months living together would do that. But John thinks it's time. He thinks he can face the night alone now. 

“I know I don't have to leave here. I just think I should live on my own.” He takes a deep breathe. “I think I can live on my own again.” 

“Ah, so you want to prove it to yourself that you can brave the night?” Her voice is cutting. 

He looks at her. She stares at her toast angrily. “This,” he waves his hand. “This is your space. I invaded it and you let me because you care. But I will never fit in here as seamlessly as you want me to.” 

“I-” she bites her lip. He knows what she wants. She wants them to live happily ever after. But he is not for them. And deep down she knows it. 

“I love you guys and you know it, but this is not-this is not it for me.” And god does he wish it weren't so. 

“We just want you to be happy,” Andy says, grabbing John's hand and squeezing lightly. 

He wants to answer with 'I am', but he is not. Not yet. “I'm on my way there.” 

“We will inspect every one of the apartments you will want to rent.” 

“Sure,” John says easily. 

~+~  
“So what kind of flat do you want?” Andy asks. 

“Four walls and a roof would be fine.” 

Lindsey rolls her eyes in despair. “Yeah, a card-box meets that criteria, Blake.” 

“Fine. Central heating and a bathtub and a balcony would be fine.” 

“How many rooms?” 

“I'm alone. I only need one bedroom. Kitchen, bathroom,” John answers. He would like a sitting or living room or something, but he doesn't need it. And he doesn't think he can afford more than one bedroom anyway in the better part of town. 

“Balcony?” Andy asks. 

“I would like an herb-garden,” John shrugs. He and Ma-ku had one. John liked the fresh smell of lavender, thyme and dill. 

“I'll see what I can find,” Lindsey says. She makes notes in her small, sharp handwriting. Bullet-points because she likes it when things look neat. 

“Okay.” 

~+~  
The first few are a nightmare. On one occasion Lindsey doesn't even go inside to look at the flat because she thinks the stairs will give any minute. They don't look that bad, John thinks. 

“No,” she says, taking the red marker to strike it out. “Only over my very dead body.” 

“Uh...” Andy throws in with a side-glance at John. 

John can handle it. He can. He is fine. Ten months since she died and counting, but he is...well, maybe not fine, but not devastated anymore. On most days.  
“It's fine. No need to sweat it.” 

“If you have to live on the sixth floor, maybe a lift would be a good idea.” 

“I don't care,” John answers. “Stairs are a good way to stay fit. I don't need a lift. I am a cop.” 

“Rookie and not even that. You aren't through with the academy yet,” Lindsey reminds him. 

“Fine. Point is: I don't need a lift. I can take the stairs.” He would rather not live on the tenth floor without a lift though. But the sixth is manageable. 

“You. Sometimes I don't know what to do with you,” she sighs. “Still, not this one. It doesn't have a balcony.” 

“Fine.” 

~+~  
He finds his apartment by accident. More or less. Matt hears him talking about it with the guys and gives him a number. His sister's friend is moving to Seattle and her apartment will be free in a few weeks. 

“Better you than some creeper we don't know. It's hers, you know? But she takes all her stuff, except the kitchen. Stove and sink and dishwasher. Actually, not sure about the dishwasher.” 

“Why doesn't she sell it?” John asks. 

“I guess renting it out will make more money? I have no idea. Why do you want to know? It's a good opportunity.”  
John nods. It is. 

~+~  
He rents the apartment, because it has a bathtub and a balcony, a small one, but it's enough for a herb-garden. One bedroom and a big kitchen. He doesn't need more. When John walks in he feels at home and that's how he knows. He doesn't even consult Lindsey on that one. He moves in early December. He only buys a bed at first; because it's the thing he needs the most. And Andy gets him two chairs. Mismatched from a garage sale. But John loves them. They look old and solid. Lindsey buys him a table for the small kitchen. It most likely cost more than John's Ikea bed, but he doesn't ask her. It's a gift and he knows she can afford it.  
Eggert scoffs about the lack of a couch. 

“I don't need one. I don't even have a TV yet.” 

“You need a PlayStation and soon,” Eggert answers. “Also more chairs or a freaking couch.” 

“I just moved in two weeks ago. It needs a bit time to get it right.” 

Eggert gives him a look. “Hmm...”

“It needs time if you are a rookie cop. They don't pay me that well. And I don't have that much money left from my other job.” 

“Yeah, I guess you can't be modelling underwear any more. What if someone sees you? I couldn't take anything seriously that a cop tells me who I know posed in underwear for teenage-glamour magazines.” 

“Ha, fucking ha,” John says, but he isn't offended. He thinks he would've the same problem. Once you've seen someone naked things change. 

“Just saying.” 

“You could buy me one,” John says. 

“What? PlayStation?” Eggert asks. 

“Couch,” John answers. 

“You know what? I could.” 

 

**~Four~**  
John isn't very popular with his colleagues, but he isn't here to make friends. He gets along with people well enough, but he just doesn't think they should know much about his life.  
It's no one's business, but his.  
It's really no wonder that they call him hot-head when things start to get a bit messy. John thinks that the police of Gotham didn't have much to do besides catching the odd desperate soul stealing a handbag or car.  
Gotham didn't see real crime since the Joker, since Harvey Dent died.  
John isn't a pessimist by nature, but life taught him that things can always go south, that things will always go south.  
And in hindsight, he thinks, Gotham had a good run. Eight years without any major crime is pretty freaking good. 

~+~  
Of course things can't stay that way. Kids looking in the sewers of Gotham for work is a major clue that something is brewing. John wonders why everyone seems so set on ignoring it. Maybe orphans aren't worth it. Well, they are worth it to John. They were John's family once upon a time. 

“You have that look,” Andy says.  
John is still eating dinner with them at least once a week. It's good to have friends. John sometimes wonders how he made it work without Andy in Korea. But he had had Ma-ku back then and her friends. 

“What look?” 

“On your face,” Andy answers. 

“It's my normal face.”

“Spit it out already,” Lindsey throws in. 

John sighs. “I think something is going on in the sewers.” 

“Something not good and very bad, am I close?” Lindsey wants to know. 

“Yeah, but no one seems to care.” 

“You care,” Andy says. 

“I am one person. I can't look for big bad guys in the sewers. Do you have any idea how big of a maze that is down there? I have a flash-light and pages upon pages of maps.” 

“Did you talk to your superior?” Lindsey asks. John gives her a look. “Right, stupid question. So, any ideas?” 

“No, not really. I guess I'll just have to wait for shit to hit the fan.” 

“Nice,” Lindsey says. 

“Sorry.” 

“Or you could ask Wayne for help,” Andy throws in. 

Sometimes John really wonders about how much Andy knows.  
“What could Mister Wayne do? No one has seen him for years.” Lindsey asks. 

“He has means and ways to get shit done,” John says.  
Andy nods. 

~+~  
John takes a deep breath before he knocks on the front door. He is very aware that he hadn't spoken to Wayne in over four years and that Alfred probably thinks he's dead by now or worse. After Ma-ku … John has no excuse except that he couldn't deal. And it seems that Wayne couldn't either. John did his research when he was able to face the world again. When he had a few free hours when he came home from the job. He did his research and no one has seen Wayne for years. He just stopped going out in public.  
John still has a key to the house. He could just open the front door and enter, but he doesn't think he has the right anymore.  
This, even looking at it, doesn't feel like home anymore.  
He takes another breath and knocks. 

~+~  
“I need to see Bruce Wayne.”

“I'm sorry Mister Wayne does take unscheduled calls even from a police officer,” Alfred says and then he blinks. “John,” he says.  
John nods. What else can he do? He is sorry, but this is not the time and not the place.  
John is still angry, he realises. Seeing Alfred, seeing this house that used to be his home, makes him angry. Makes him realises all over what he has lost.  
“I need to see him. I could get a warrant-”

“That won't be necessary Master John,” Alfred interrupts smoothly, opening the door wider, so John can enter the house. “I am sure he will see you.”  
Seems John isn't the only one who still has faith in Wayne. 

~+~  
The house reminds him of the first time he came to live here. It was barely a home back then too. The halls feel empty, like stripped bones. It feels dead to John.  
He runs a hand over the walls as he follows Alfred to a room as far away from the library as it's possible. And the house is huge, always has been. Far away from the library is really freaking far. But then, John thinks, he is glad for it. He doesn't think he could handle the library now. Not with all that is still in there. All that he has locked up in that room, all that Wayne no doubt has locked up there. 

“What can I do for you officer?” 

“Commissioner Gordon has been shot,” John says and tries not to look at Wayne too closely. He is broken. More broken than John remembers. So John doesn't look and tells Wayne about Bane and the underground army instead. Tells Wayne what Wayne needs to hear. “He needs you,” he says and thinks that maybe he himself needs Wayne too. “He needs the Batman.” 

Wayne looks at him and doesn't betray anything, but John knows him. John always knew him. “If Commissioner Gordon thinks-”

“Oh he doesn't care who you are,” John interrupts. “But we've met before.” He is thinking about just telling Wayne, but maybe Wayne knows, maybe Wayne doesn't care. Maybe Wayne pretends because John is pretending. Maybe- who the hell knows? It's Wayne John is up against. It could be anything; it could be all of it.  
“When I saw you, I knew who you were.” 

“I had no idea who you were,” Wayne answers and looks at John. Really looks. He knows, John thinks. John is sure Wayne knows exactly who he's talking to. 

“Because I was a kid back then. I didn't know who I was either,” John says and leans back into the sofa. He doesn't remember that sofa, but that doesn't mean it hadn't been here when John was living here. 

“But you did know who you wanted to be,” Wayne says and after a short pause, like he is hesitating: “John.” 

John nearly has a heart attack. He didn't hear Wayne say his name in years. No one ever says his name like Wayne does. No one ever had, no one ever will. John just knows it.  
“No, not really. I wanted to be Batman because he wasn't a real person. That was obviously before I met you.” 

“Obviously,” Wayne answers. There is a soft smile in his eyes.  
John wants to ask if Wayne missed him, but he doesn't. He knows that Wayne missed him, because John missed Wayne. 

“So are you going to blow the dust of the cowl?” 

“Since when do you know?”

“That you are Batman?”

“Yes,” Wayne answers. 

“Since I first saw you. Like I already said. It wasn't because I lived here, because I was- it wasn't because of that. I knew because you are hiding behind a mask and I am hiding behind a mask. We are practising smiling in a mirror. I knew you.”

“Seems you still know me,” Wayne answers. 

“You will take up the cowl again?”

“Yes,” Wayne answers. 

“Because the city needs you?” John has no idea why he asks it, where he is going with this. 

“Because Gotham needs me,” Wayne says. 

John nods. They are on the same page then. He gets up and looks at Wayne. He wonders how this will change them, because it will. How can it not? This is the first time they're talking to each other after four years. There is so much time, so many things John doesn't know about. How Wayne ended up with the cane? Why does he need it? What happened in those four years John was away living his own life? John doesn't ask, because that is not the time for it.  
They are strangers to each other, strangers who knew each other very well, who loved each other very much, who still know things no one else does. But strangers nevertheless.  
Maybe when all of this is over they will have a few hours to catch up. 

“I need to go back. Asking masked vigilantes for help is not my job,” John says. 

“I'm not masked.” 

You always were in a way, John thinks. He smiles. “Wayne.” 

“John,” Wayne says as John is at the door; handle in hand, ready to leave. 

“Yes?” he turns a bit, but he doesn't really see Wayne's face. 

“I'm glad that you-” he stops and John closes his eyes. Of course. “I'm proud for you choosing to be a police officer,” he finishes with. 

It's something, John thinks. “I never had a real chance, you know?” he says and then leaves, because he can't be here and not throw himself at Wayne. He is still all messed up about this, because this is his home. It's still his home and he still needs, a part of him still needs Wayne to be a part of his life. To fill out that hole death left behind. 

~+~  
“I'm glad you're back, John,” Alfred says as he stands outside the door. 

“I am too,” John answers and hugs Alfred on impulse. 

Alfred hugs back. “I don't suppose you want your old room back?” 

“No, but thank you for asking,” John replies with a smile. “I'll keep in touch.” 

“You do that.”

 

**~Five~**  
John is in a car with Foley when Batman has his comeback. Live on freaking television. Sometimes John wishes Wayne could be a bit more subtle, but then he wouldn't be Wayne. Man knows how to make an entrance.  
John might also be the only cop in the whole town who doesn't want to catch Batman and who knows who Batman really is. 

~+~  
“He could've been a bit more careful on the streets,” John says. He has to admit that it looks really freaking cool watching it on TV, but the thing is that Batman endangers normal people with his behaviour.  
John doesn't know if he ever thought about that before Ma-ku died because someone wasn't paying attention to what was happening on the streets, because someone had been careless. 

“I tell him that constantly,” Alfred answers. He sounds long-suffering. 

John smiles. “It doesn't work.” 

“He's the Batman, John.” 

“Yeah,” John thinks and he wanted him back, so maybe this is all on him. “Tell him again that he isn't alone on the street, yes?” 

“I will, John. Are you coming for dinner on Saturday?”

Why the hell not, John thinks. “Yes.”  
So he can knock some sense into Wayne too. Can't do any harm. 

~+~  
“You could give it to the police,” John says. It feels like he's talking to a freaking wall. Wayne just isn't listening. And why do they have to have this conversation down here in the cave? It's cold here and it's Batman's ground. John doesn't belong here. Wayne doesn't seem to belong here either. 

“The police aren't trustworthy. Everything you can use for good you can use for bad. And I am-” 

“Wow,” John interrupts. “If you finish that with 'the only one responsible enough in this whole city' I'm so out of here.” 

“What do you want John?” Wayne asks and he sounds on the verge of pissed off. Feed up with John. Well, John thinks, that is new. 

“For you to trust in someone to do their job.” 

“I trusted Dent,” Wayne says. 

“You believed in one person and that person let you down and now you think that no one is worth it anymore?” which, would also include John. And that really fucking hurts. 

“I'm not saying anyone ever, I'm just saying not now.” 

“Fuck you. Seriously. You are just a rich guy with a lot of money and toys and a big fucking ego. Everyone could do what you do if they had been trained by ninjas and had your resources.” 

“Maybe,” Wayne answers. “But no one did. No one though this city was worth it.” 

“And you proved that this city can change,” John says quietly. 

“Yes!” 

“But it's built on a lie, Wayne. Don't you see?” 

“It doesn't matter. People needed something to believe in, someone.” 

“And it should have been you.” 

~+~  
“I don't think he's ready to face that he isn't immortal yet, Alfred,” John says as he enters the kitchen. After the cave the kitchen feels warm and like home. 

“I don't think he'll ever be.” 

“Still, he needs to be more careful. I think he is behaving careless, more than he used to, or maybe I stopped finding his behaviour cool.” 

“You were always more the adult than he was, John.” Alfred sets a mug in front of John and John nods his thanks. A hot tea is exactly what he needs right now. 

“He has all these technology and resources and he doesn't think that there is one, only one, single being that can handle them, that can use them all responsibly. It's so stupid and it pisses me off.” He sighs into his mug. 

Alfred sits down at the table across from him. “Maybe because you are included in that?” 

John shrugs. “Maybe. I like to think I learned to be a good person from you – and him.” 

“You are a good person, John.” 

~+~  
John gets home frustrated as fuck. Fighting with Wayne isn't even real fighting, all the anger inside of him can't find an outlet and he knows it's stupid, but just once he wants to see Wayne lose it.  
He takes a hot shower and grabs a book when he's done, tries to read, but it doesn't work. He reads the same page four times and still has no clue what he just read.  
He wishes he could talk this over with Ma-ku. She always had been able to make sense of things he couldn't, because he had been too emotionally compromised. It's hard to be reasonable when all you want to do is back someone into a wall and either beat the hell out of them or fuck them senseless.  
Maybe he's just sexually frustrated. He hadn't been with anyone since Ma-ku died.  
Right now he would even take Lindsey up on the threesome and that is so not happening. 

~+~  
“How is he? Did you hear from him?” Lindsey says. 

“What?” John is so fucking tired. The whole Bane thing makes him insane. Everyone in his department makes him insane. 

“You didn't read the morning paper.” 

“No,” which is freaking obvious, because he just woke up. 

“Mister Wayne lost all his money. He has nothing John.”

“He didn't contact me,” John answers. 

“Eggert's dad is on the case, they think he will get everything back, but it will need time. They stole everything...he might lose the house.” 

“Fuck,” John says, grabbing his cell. “I'll call you back.” 

“Okay.” 

~+~  
John can't get hold on anyone. Wayne's cell goes straight to voicemail and the land-line doesn't seem to work either.  
John wonders if they cut off the power already.  
He needs to find out where Wayne will be, is now, whatever. And soon. If he were Wayne he would try to save what he could. A meeting with the management board. 

~+~  
John catches him outside the building. Wayne's car is being towed. It would be funny in any other situation. But it's also starting to fucking pour. 

“Looks like you need a ride?” he asks. 

“Yes,” Wayne says, getting into John's car. He's on duty. 

“Where to?” He asks and Wayne gives him an address – not in the greatest part of town. 

“It's where Miss Kyle is living. I need to know what she knows.” 

“Right,” John says and starts the car. 

~+~  
It's still pouring when Wayne comes back. He's wet to the bone as he gets into the car again. 

“What now?” John asks. 

“I don't know...” 

John bites his lip. “So, what is wrong with the phone?” 

“Alfred is gone.” 

“I think we need to fucking talk,” John answers. 

“Yes,” Wayne says and starts talking while John drives and listens. Wayne doesn't say a single word about why Alfred left.  
He isn't on duty anymore since Wayne got into the car five minutes ago. So he drives home on autopilot. 

~+~  
“When did you get that?” Wayne asks and John isn't fast enough to avoid his touch. Wayne's fingers on his skin make him shiver, but he can blame it on the fact that he is wet to the bone. It's freaking pouring outside after all. 

“A while back,” he says not turning around and silently cursing himself for being stupid and changing right in his living room. What the fuck was he thinking? That this is his home, that is what he was thinking. He had been walking around naked in his flat, because it's his damn right. 

Wayne runs his finger gently over the first star, the second, the last and then steps back. “I didn't know-” 

“Yeah. How could you?” John cuts in. It wasn't any of Wayne's business anyway if John got a tattoo, or three. But maybe a line of three stars counted as one tattoo. He got them on the same day. He never really thought about it. 

“They suit you,” Wayne says, smoothly, but he isn't looking at John anymore. 

“You should change your clothes. You'll catch a cold.” 

“It can wait until I'm home,” Wayne says. 

“Do you still have a home?” 

“They left me the house,” Wayne answers. 

John shakes his head, grabbing a clean shirt. He should probably shower, but not with Wayne here. “I would've let you sleep on the couch.” 

“Thank you, John.” 

It still makes John shudder hearing Wayne say his name. He should be over it now, but he thinks he maybe never will get over it.  
“You opened your home to me when I needed someone.” He shrugs. 

“Do you think I need someone now?” Wayne asks and John turns to look at him now that he is clothed again. The t-shirt is worn thin and it doesn't hide the first star at the base of his neck fully. 

“I always thought you needed someone,” he answers, and doesn't add 'especially now that Alfred is gone'. 

“I can't have anyone, John-”

“Because you're Batman? That is bullshit.”

“People die.”

“You mean Rachel,” John says. 

“Yes, I mean Rachel. I can't be close to someone and be Batman.” 

“You can't be Batman anymore anyway. You're broke.” 

“Only temporally,” Wayne replies. 

John takes a deep breath. He didn't think he would ask, he thought he knew, but he needs to ask now. “Is that why you -” he waves his hand, because he isn't sure how to finish that sentence: let me go? Sent me away? It wasn't only Wayne. John had been the one to leave. 

“It was because you were a kid, John. And I-” Wayne stops, balls his hands to fists. 

“I knew what I wanted. I loved you,” John says quietly. 

“But how?” Wayne asks and John looks at him. 

“What?” 

“How did you love me?” 

“What kind of question is that?” John wants to know. Is Wayne playing with him? Is he fucking _stupid_? 

“A very important one,” Wayne answers. 

John takes a deep breath. How. How did he love Wayne? How does he love Wayne? “I was in love with you. That is how. It was not any parent stuff, or gratitude or whatever the hell you think. I fell in love with you.” It should hurt less, John thinks, to say these things. If it were all in the past it should hurt less. 

“John-”

“And you fell in love with me and then you broke my heart. Sent me away-”

“I wanted you to stay,” Wayne cuts in. 

“You wanted me to stay as your child. A child I wasn't anymore. Never really had been. You should have known better.” 

“I'm only human, John.” 

“I know: I know. And stop fucking saying my name!” He explodes and takes a few steps back. No one who vaguely resembles a drown rat should look that good. 

“I should go,” Wayne says. 

“Yes, you should.” 

“Thank you for the ride-”

“Do you have cab money?” John asks, because he can't seem to stop caring. 

“Actually, no,” Wayne answers with a small smile, like he didn't even consider that he had to pay for something with real money. 

John sighs and grabs his valet. “Here.” 

“I can't-” 

“It's that or walking home. It is still pouring, Wayne.” 

Wayne nods, once, and takes the offered money. As he's nearly at the door he turns around again. “John?” 

“Yes?” 

“What does it mean your tattoo?” 

“Would you believe me if I said nothing and that I got it on a whim?” John asks. 

“No.” 

John smiles, despite himself. “Every star is for a person I loved and lost.” 

“Your mother and father,” Wayne nods. 

“And Ma-ku.” 

“Yes, your late girlfriend. You have only three...”

“You’re still here,” John says, because he knows Wayne. Knows what he is thinking.

“When I die will you get one for me too?” He's trying to make it sound flippant but John sees right through it. Knows what Wayne is really asking. “You don't have to answer that.” 

“I know.” 

“Good night, John.” 

And again with the first name, John thinks a bit bitter. “Good night Wayne,” he answers. 

 

**~Six~**  
John wishes that for once he had some kind of warning before everything goes to hell. It's like as soon as he set foot into Gotham the dominoes began to fall, he just didn't realise it at the time.  
Wayne losing everything, Bane being trained by the League of Shadows, Kyle wanting to leave town, it all should have clued John in that shit was about to hit the fan.  
But John got fucking distracted by Wayne, by Andy and his exhibition, by Alfred leaving. Alfred leaving. What the fuck?  
John sighs and runs a hand through his hair.  
He's alone now.  
Wayne is gone and with him Batman, Kyle is god only knows where, the city is under the law of war and Gordon is not the hero John thought he was. Which should be the last of his concerns, but John thinks he finally hit his breaking point.  
Not for long, he thinks, sinking down to the floor of an old factory building. Just for a few minutes he's going to wallow in misery and he's going to do it in fucking style and then he's going to pick himself up, because that is what he can do, that is what he has done all the times before, because he doesn't know how not to, and will face the situation outside and try to make it better.  
Alfred was right. John was always big on hope.  
At least, John thinks, Alfred isn't in the city or Andy and Lindsey. He would have tried to keep them away from this madness, to keep them alive, but to be honest he knows this will be hard. And he is glad he doesn't have to look out for anyone else. He is hunted as it is. It's not safe to be with him. He could get people killed. Funny, how him being a cop turned out to be the worst fucking thing ever. 

~+~  
John has been in really fucking bad situations before. But nothing quite as bad as the Occupation.  
It's not only the cold – winter hitting really hard this year as if to mock – but also the food. He doesn't get, like all the cops, full rations. He's a scavenger. Sometimes relying on the boys in the orphanage. John was one of them once, but he has still qualms to take away their food. And he knows how stupid that is. He needs to keep up his strength to be able to fight.  
To find the bomb, to get it to Mister Fox, to stop Bane – somehow. He has no idea how. First thing on their agenda is to find that bomb. To stop it from exploding, it would take a lot of the pressure away.  
Gordon has narrowed it down to three trucks, constantly moving. It's not easy, but manageable John thinks, well at least until Gordon and everyone who is with him are captured and John is alone again.  
He doesn't think he can do this. Not alone.  
Batman could, but then Batman had a lot of money, Mister Fox, Alfred, cool toys and was well fed and rested. John doesn't have any of that.  
What John has is one gun and not enough ammo, an unhappy stomach and way too maybe bruises from when he got his shit kicked out of him two weeks ago. He has been caught loitering...it was a good thing they didn't know he's a cop. Could have been worse. He could have ended up strung to the freaking bridge, his body left for the birds to feast on it.  
He doesn't even allow himself to think about what Alfred, Lindsey and Andy must have been going through seeing that on television, knowing John is still here. Fighting for his life. For all their lives.  
John has only one option left at this point. He knows it's stupid and risky and dangerous and he will probably get killed, but damn. At this point, he thinks, it's all or nothing.  
So John decides to free the cops from the tunnels. With Batman gone, Gordon gone and the bomb only god knows where, it's his only chance to survive this. It's not a big chance, mind you – to be honest, a snowflake has a better chance in hell – but it's that or sitting and waiting for death and John would rather get shit done. 

~+~  
Batman saves the day.  
John is ready to die, he got someone killed, he is on his knees and facing the barrel of a gun and he knows it's all over.  
And then Batman swoops in and saves the fucking day. Well, at least John's life, which is all you can ask for at the moment, John thinks.  
John wants to kiss him, because he's alive and Batman is too, but they don't have time. They have merely hours left before the city is erased from the maps.  
John hates Gotham. 

“What now?” he asks. 

“Now you're going to get this army to Gordon and I will try and find this bomb and get it to Fox.” 

“And then?” John asks taking Batman aside. 

“I don't know.” 

John wants to punch him, but he is probably bruised up real good under that suit. “Just go and save the day and I'll meet you at home.” 

“Mine or yours?” Batman asks and he sounds like Wayne in that moment. 

“Ours,” John says just before there is shouting from the direction of the tunnels. The cops are crawling out. John faces away from Batman and does his god-damned job.  
He tries not to look at Batman again, but suddenly he isn't too sure he will make it out of here alive.  
“Thanks for saving my life,” he says. 

“Don't thank me yet.” 

“I might not get another chance,” he answers and doesn't stick around to hear Batman's reply. John has things to do, places to be. People to rescue.  
That is what John can do to help the city, to help Batman and that is what John will do. 

 

**~Seven~**  
After. After the blast, after the cheering. God, John thinks, people _cheered_. After all that, after John gets over his first shock, he is sure there will be more of a breakdown soon. After he steals a car and drives home.  
He drives to the manor, because that is still his home, was his first real home. Even before the orphanage John doesn't think that he had anything close to what he had at the manor for all these years. However unconventional it might have been.  
Besides he isn't even sure if his apartment is still standing, so to speak. It wasn't in the best neighbourhood, but had been a decent one at the time and it had a balcony.  
The manor is too far out for people to bother to drive up there and grab what they can carry. People are lazy as fuck and everyone knows that Wayne is broke anyway.  
It's a good assumption that the manor will be intact. John still has the keys. 

~+~  
And they fit. The manor is still standing and everything is still there. Which is a small miracle. Despite it being so far out and people being lazy as fuck.  
The house feels empty and like it's sleeping or dying when he enters it. It isn't only that Wayne isn't here, it's mostly, John thinks, because Alfred isn't.  
Alfred made the manor a home for John. For Wayne, for himself. For them. And Alfred is gone. John needs to ask Wayne why Alfred- John stops in the middle of the hall and takes a deep breath. He can't ask Wayne anything anymore.  
Because Wayne is Batman and Batman is dead.  
John had seen it happen. And after it happened he found Fox and asked about autopilot and all the other fancy stuff -  
Nothing. Fox had said nothing and just shook his head a bit like he couldn't believe it either.  
What the hell is John going to tell Alfred once he's back?  
He passes the library, their library, once, twice, seven times before he sets a foot inside and then he curls up in a chair and breaks down. He sobs, because no one is there to hear him.  
He falls asleep like that. 

~+~  
The next few days are hell. There's still no communication established, at least not for civilians. He can't talk to anyone. No one knows Wayne is dead. Alfred would assume that Wayne had a plan B and C and D. Because he is the Batman.  
Andy and Lindsey plain don't know.  
John can't do anything except sit around and read and sleep. He is sleeping a fucking lot, but he is exhausted as hell too. And not only emotionally.  
The last five months have been hell on his body and mind.  
When he is up, making something to eat from all the still edible food in the kitchen (he threw out all the rotten stuff on his first day), he feels like a ghost. Like the last person on earth.  
He knows it won't stay that way.  
But he doesn't know if he is ready to be a real person again and face the people who weren't here, who don't know how it has been. Who can't possibly understand what John went through. 

~+~  
Selina Kyle is the last person John expects on his doorstep when he opens the door. She looks good, she looks healthy. John wants to – well, better not to go there. 

“Blake,” she says. 

“Kyle,” John answers. 

She looks over his shoulder and John fights the urge to slam the door in her face. At least she did ring the bell. She could've broken in.  
“There is something in my car that needs your...attention,” she says. 

“What the hell?” 

“Blake, I am not kidding. And to be honest I don't want it,” she replies. Her tone hard.  
He looks over to her car and can just make out a shape on the back-seat. “As soon as you get him in, he isn't my problem anymore. Tell him we're even.” 

John fights the hope, but it doesn't stay buried. It bubbles up and over and John is running to the car and he doesn't care how it might look to Kyle. Clearly by now she knows that John is Wayne's ward – at least.  
“He's alive,” John says. 

She stands beside him, his hand is on the glass of the window. He can't make himself move farther than that. She makes an impatient noise and opens the car-door. “Help me get him inside. He isn't in the best shape, but I patched him up as well as I could.” 

“Thank you,” he whispers and he means it. He is so fucking thankful right now. Wayne is not dead. 

“Please, don't mention it,” she answers and they get Wayne inside. 

~+~  
Wayne is in and out of consciousness for two days. John does what he can. He knows the wound is not that bad – anymore. Wayne won't die of blood poisoning or anything like that. Kyle's seen to that. Probably had a doctor look Wayne over and give him the good stuff. John doesn't ask how she did that; she has ways and means. John doesn't want to know them. He knows that Kyle found Wayne a few hours after the explosion. By accident as she claims. John calls bullshit on the accidentally part. He knows she and Wayne had _something_ going on before Wayne was captured by Bane. They could've been more, but they didn't have enough time and she isn't someone Wayne, Batman, could trust.  
Wayne has a lot of trust issues.  
John thinks she had felt guilty, had some clue what he was about to do, likes him enough to save his life. Maybe all of the above. John doesn't care. She found him and she brought him back to John.  
That is all that counts, even if John is sure that at some point he will have to face why he didn't even try to look for Wayne.  
That time is not now. 

~+~  
Wayne is up and coherent on day four. John has taken to sleep in Wayne's room to be there when something should change.  
He wakes up to fingers brushing hair out of his face. 

“I'm awake,” he says sleepily. 

“I can see that,” Wayne answers amused. 

“You're awake,” John says, looking up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, and sitting up. “You shaved...” John hadn't even noticed that Wayne left the bed. Fuck. “How are you feeling?” 

“Better,” Wayne says. 

Which, John thinks, doesn't say much about how Wayne is feeling at all. “Right. You did get up and shave. Showered too?” 

“I was careful not to get the bandages wet, John.” 

“Right,” John repeats. He runs a hand over his face. He is still so tired. Taking care of Wayne for the last few days had been pretty exhausting. 

“I think I am better than you, in fact.” 

“You were stabbed, and then nearly drowned and god only knows what the radiation will do to you, and-” 

“John,” Wayne interrupts, grabbing his hand without any hesitation, holding it firmly. “I am okay.” 

“You're not dead,” John states. “Not dead doesn't mean okay.” 

“I am on my way to be okay then.” 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” John says. “I thought you were dead. For days I thought you were dead and I-”

“I am sorry,” Wayne says. “I'm so sorry,” he repeats and then he leans down and kisses John's temple, his cheek, the comer of his mouth. 

John doesn't think Wayne only apologizes for the last few days. He would like to say Wayne doesn't have to apologize at all, but to be honest, John thinks Wayne does.  
“It's fine,” he answers and kisses Wayne back. 

~+~  
“So, we're alone,” Wayne says, he's up and about, but he is moving slowly and carefully to not pull his stitches. 

“Yes, and everyone thinks you're dead, except Kyle.” 

“I know you don't like her-” 

“I don't trust her, that is different,” John cuts in. 

“I do.” 

John nods. Nothing to be done. John doesn't point out that it had been Kyle who sold him out. Wayne knows that. Has the scars to prove it too. And maybe he has a point: she had been afraid of Bane with every right to be and she did look for him, brought him here so John could take care of him.  
“Communication is still down,” John says instead. 

“What about the bridges?” 

“Are you kidding?” John asks. 

“Right,” Wayne replies with a small smile. “We're the last two people in the world.” 

“At least here. We do have enough canned food and pasta.” 

“Alfred always thought of the zombie-apocalypse,” Wayne answers. 

“Well, the Occupation wasn't that, but it hadn't been all jokes and fun either,” John says and bites down on the bitterness. Years of therapy to come, he thinks. 

“John-” 

“And I am jobless again. I might be forced to take up the underwear modelling once more,” John cuts in. 

“What? After what you did they should promote you and not-”

“I quit. I threw my badge in the river,” John admits quietly. 

“Why?” 

“Because Gordon was right, sometimes the rules and laws can become shackles.” 

“I'm still broke...” Wayne says to lighten the mood, but it doesn't really work. 

“And Batman is dead. What are you going to do?” 

“Stay dead?” Wayne answers. 

John lets that sink in. “Really? You want the authorities to declare you dead?” 

“Yes, I have a will and everything. I made it before I went to see Bane.” 

“You knew she would betray you.” 

“I hoped she wouldn't, but I like to have a plan B.” 

Plan B, John thinks. Plan B involved possibly dying, but making sure the people he cared about were provided for. “I have no idea if I'm mad at you right now or not,” John says. 

Wayne smiles. “I go with not then, if I can choose for you.” 

“You can't choose for me, we established that, didn't we?” John answers softly. 

“Yes,” Wayne says and leans over to kiss John. 

~+~  
The kiss gets pretty heated pretty soon. John wants and he wants badly, but Wayne is still injured. 

“I had worse,” Wayne says. 

“I seriously doubt that,” John answers, running his hands over every part of Wayne he can reach. His hands slip carefully under Wayne's worn t-shirt. He can feel scars wherever he touches. He's seen them, of course, felt a few, but he never had been as acutely aware of them as he is now. He kisses Wayne again. Can't stop doing it and Wayne seems to have the same problem. They are in the library, and maybe a bed would be more comfortable. John makes himself ask the question. 

“Here is fine,” Wayne answers. John gets it; it's here where they started this so many years ago. Wayne and his stupid symbolism. But John finds it just a bit charming too. 

“You'll tell me if it's too much, you'll tell me if you're in pain. You'll tell me to stop,” John orders. 

Wayne nods. “Yes.”

“I mean it.” 

“Yes, John, I get it,” Wayne answers. 

“And,” John says, his hands stopping roaming over Wayne's body, he looks Wayne in the eyes. “If this is ‘I am not dead, you are not dead, no one else is here, no one will ever know-sex’, I am out of here.” 

“It's not John. I am not a complete idiot.” 

John gives him a look. “Really?” 

Wayne smiles. “I am not. I made mistakes. I know, but this is not ‘I am not dead, you are not dead and all the other stuff you just said- sex.’” 

“Good,” John answers and pushes Wayne down into the chair. “I've learned a few things while I was soul-searching in Asia.” He falls to his knees in front of Wayne and looks up at him. Wayne doesn't say a word as John undoes his pants and strokes a finger delicately over his dick. John knows he's good at this, but he only ever did it with Ma-ku, knew all her tells and things she liked. He's determinate to find out all of Wayne's too.  
There are so many things John wants to do to Wayne, wants Wayne to do to him, but they'll have to wait until Wayne is feeling better.  
For now this is enough.  
Wayne's fingers patting at John, skimming over his head, his neck, and Wayne's dick heavy on Johns tongue. John is cataloguing every hitch, every intake of breath, the tightening of fingers in his hair, so he'll know what Wayne likes and can do it again. Hopefully soon. 

~+~  
“I didn't learn anything like that when I was soul-searching in Asia,” Wayne says softly. He's holding John's head in his hands carefully, his breathing is still too hard, but calming as John watches.  
“Clearly your priorities were screwed,” John answers. 

“Clearly.” 

~+~  
The first thing John does after communication is restored is try to get a hold of Alfred. It doesn't take long. Wayne still has means and ways to find someone and John is learning a-fucking-lot down in the bat-cave. 

“He'll be here as soon as he can. He will organize a funeral and a wake. Something small.” 

“It's a bit strange to talk about my own funeral,” Wayne says. He's back to being all business again. John doesn't mind, because they're sleeping in the same bed more often than not these days. Things aren't magically fixed because they had a heart to heart and a few blow-jobs, but John thinks the blow-jobs helped. 

“Not many people can be at their own funeral.” 

“I won't be there, John,” Wayne says. 

“Right,” John answers. He believes that when – actually, never. He smiles. 

“John.” 

“Bruce,” John says in the same semi-exasperated tone. He doesn't say Wayne's first name often and it still didn't lose its effect.  
Wayne gives him a look that clearly states he's in trouble, but John grins right back at him. They'll be fine. Maybe they'll even be better than fine.


End file.
